


The Siren's Song

by renhyuck (thereisnoreality)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Asexual Character, Blood and Gore, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Quests, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-06-23 16:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19705564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereisnoreality/pseuds/renhyuck
Summary: “You owe the sea a great tribute, Jaemin Na,” Renjun says. The candle light flickers off his eyes turning them glassy as a cat’s eye would. “She is eager to collect.”Jaemin think of the blood that covers his hands, that drips down his body, that he bathes in nightly. “When the time comes,” he says quietly, standing. Underneath him, the boat rocks, as if the sea hears, as if calling to him, beckoning his body to the watery depths below. “When the time comes, I will gladly give her all she desires. But for now, I have something of mine to get back.”





	1. loyal to few, ruled by none

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to the first chapter of the infamous pirate fic! It has been in the works since last december and I'm so, so happy to finally reveal my little monster baby to the world. 
> 
> This fic would not exist without Leo who was there from the very beginning and lent me her genius to extend these characters out from a few screaming dms into the lovely messes they are today. All the love in the world to her <3\. 
> 
> and as always, a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4sAhlARrY5HoQdmwXMCi4z?si=hliW_f78SE24_HOSV1izIQ)
> 
> Do not repost this anywhere!

_**After** _

“He’s a legend, a _living_ legend.”

“He’s not a legend, if _we’ve_ seen him, is he?”

“He’s a legend to others, Jisung, don’t be an idiot.”

Jeno lifts his head from where he’s been tracing mindless patterns on the grimy, splintered wood, ears perking up at the familiar voices.

“‘M _not_ an idiot.”

“You sure act like it sometimes.”

A new voice joins the fray, unfamiliar and rough. “You ain’t really seen him in real life.”

The scoff of affront can be heard all the way from where he sits. Jeno closes his eyes and sighs, before scooping his mug off the table and following the voices to the back of the pub. He reaches them just as Jisung awkwardly sets down some half pints and Chenle’s hackles are about to hit the ceiling from how high they’re raised.

“What are you two up to?” Jeno hums, tilting his head down to meet Chenle’s sparkling eyes.

“Nothing!” Chenle blinks at him innocently, though Jeno is far from fooled. He’s seen entire towns go under because of those eyes. “We were just-”

“Making up stories about our captain to swindle your way into free drinks?” Jeno responds, glancing at the grubby man sat across them, who scoffs again.

“I knew it!” He gloats, snatching one of the mugs from Jisung, who makes a sad noise but lets it go. While the man drains the mug, head tipped farther back than necessary, Jisung’s hand flits to his waist, quick as a dragonfly’s wings, and cuts his purse free. He looks up to meet Jeno’s knowing eyes and winks, dropping the purse silently into his boot, face melting back into a pout at his drink being stolen away as the man slams the mug down with a loud clang.

“They’re not made up,” Chenle protests, looking up at Jeno through his lashes and placing a hand on his chest. He smiles sweetly and Jeno forces his heartbeat to stay steady. “You of all people should know what I’m talking about.” He turns to the man, pleased. “He’s the first mate!”

The man laughs, ugly and wheezing. “You mean to tell me,” he points a grubby finger at Jeno. “That this waif of a boy is Na the Mad’s first mate? Ah, you need to get better at telling your lies, little one.”

“He’s not fond of that name,” Jeno murmurs, arching an eyebrow as the man drains the other glass. Chenle scowls at being referred to as ‘little’ and Jeno rests a hand on his shoulder, fingers tightening ever so slightly to get him to untense. On the contrary, Jaemin had been very pleased the first time he’d heard the nickname, giggling at the moniker for weeks afterward. It’s Jeno who isn’t fond of the name really, but there wasn’t a better word to aptly describe Jaemin, and so it had stuck.

The man waves them off. “You’ll have to do far better than that to convince me. Now scram, before-”

Chenle leans forward. “Oh, but we can,” He interrupts, a gleam in his eyes. “Tell me, good sir, when was the last time you heard a good love story?” Jisung makes a noise of protest and Jeno’s body goes cold.

The man sits up. “A love story, eh?”

Chenle nods, gesturing at the barmaid to hand them more glasses and the man takes it, grunting in approval when Jisung slams a few coins down on the table. His own coins. “A proper love story,” he whispers tantalizingly. “Of a love truer than the seven seas.”

“Le,” Jeno says, the ice mounting in his chest and crawling up into his throat. “I don’t think-”

“What does this have to with Na?” The man sneers, but there’s interest in his eyes and Chenle pounces on it, smiling like a satisfied cat.

“Oh, it’s _his_ love story, of course,” Chenle says, low and tantalizing. “The story of how Na the Mad fell in love and then lost him forever.”

“Chenle, stop.” Jeno snaps, slamming his hand down on the table. The wood cracks under his palm and Chenle jumps, giving him a wounded look. “You _know_ better than that.”

“I wasn’t going to tell him everything,” Chenle complains, but he’s hurt now.

Jeno can’t find it in himself to care. “You shouldn’t have said anything,” he says, pulling away from Chenle and rising. Jisung looks at him with wide eyes. “You _both_ should know better than that.”

They’d all been there, after all. They’d all seen how Jaemin had become afterwards.

“Jeno,” Chenle protests. His hand reaches for Jeno’s arm but he's already walking away, brushing out of the pub and into the darkened, crowded streets.

🌊

They leave the island that night. Jaemin’s in a strangely good mood, humming a children’s sea shanty quietly to himself as they load fresh water and food into the hull. Having a crew of five people means there’s always a lot of work, but there’s something special about the _Siren’s Song_ that lets them sail without a large crew. Jaemin’s always been annoyingly tight lipped about how he acquired her, but Jeno knows it has something to do with his mother and her even more mysterious origins.

Jeno eyes the paint on the new name of the ship consideringly. It was the only outward sign of Jaemin’s true feelings towards the past and they’d done their best to cover the old name but it still shone through the curling black script. A mark of Jaemin’s mother’s tenacity, he supposes.

“Have you got a plan?” Jeno asks Jaemin as they roll barrels up the deck onto the ship. Jaemin turns to him, panting, sweat clinging to his unnaturally pink hair, dampening it down and turning it a darker shade.

He grins, pushing his bangs back from his forehead. “Do we need one?”

Jeno shrugs. They don’t, usually, just sail the seas looking for trouble and riches until landfall becomes absolutely necessary. For all their differences, the one thing the whole of the _Song’s_ crew can agree on is a shared unease at being on land for prolonged periods of time. “Not really, but Mark was making noises about landing at Tortuga before we’re truly out at sea.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, but a smile curls about his lips. "Mark _always_ wants to go to Tortuga," he says, rolling a barrel up the plank with a small grunt. "He's a fool that way."

"A fool you choose to indulge," Jeno reminds him wearily. They both straighten with twin groans and make their way back down to the loading dock, brightening when they see there’s no more left to load.

"Ah, finally," Jaemin sighs, rolling his shoulders. "Back to sea."

"I've never seen anyone who loves the sea more than you do," Jeno hums as they both move to the starboard side, staring out at the wide expanse of the ocean, glittering blue and golden jewels under the strong sun. It was Jaemin's drug - where others spent hours under opium's lovely hold, their eyes glazed and wanting for the next sweet touch of it's black fingers - Jaemin spent all of his days waiting to return to the ocean. "You are a strange one, Jaemin Na."

Jaemin smiles, but this time there's nothing fond about his gaze. He stares down the side of the ship to the dark waters below, stained with decades of ship travel. "Of course," he says easily, a calloused finger running over the railing, tracing out the grooves in the wood as one would touch a lover. "We have known each other all my life, and she will be there at the end of it as well. The sea is the one thing that is constant, Jeno. You know this."

"I know it is what _you_ believe," Jeno says lightly, neither arguing nor relenting. He knows how deep Jaemin's... obsession runs, but sometimes, Jeno will catch him staring at the ocean with an unreadable look in his eyes and he will think, with a slight shiver, that no one, not even his crew - his most trusted companions - would truly ever know Jaemin Na.

The _Siren's Song_ is a large ship - far, far larger than a crew of five should be able to handle, but pesky details were waved away, often by Jaemin himself, with the vague and sometimes frustrating explanation of 'magic'.

Among this crew there was Jaemin, a sea captain at the mere age of twenty four, an even more impressive feat when taken into consideration that he had commanded the ship for nearly five years now, all with the same hand; considerate and fair when it came to his crew, iron fisted and often bloody when it came to the outside world.

At his side was Jeno, who had been bestowed the dubious honour of First Mate when Jaemin had first taken it upon himself to captain his own ship. Jeno wouldn't trade his position and his friendship with Jaemin for the world, but it was difficult. The unenviable task of reeling Jaemin in often fell to him, and though Jeno had never been and never would be afraid of Jaemin, it was hard to remember that when faced with his fury and a bloody sword.

The third person Jaemin had brought on board was Jisung. He'd joined at a perilously young fifteen, eyes big and wet, hands scratched and bleeding from a rough three day stint in the local prison. He'd come up to Jeno's chest, hair ratty and inky black hanging on his face.It had taken him months to speak a word when Jeno was around, almost half a year to meet Jeno's gaze. Jaemin loved him fiercely and in the years that had passed, Jeno came to feel the same. Jisung kept the circumstances that Jaemin had found him in a secret, but Jeno always suspected that Jaemin had taken one look at Jisung through the broken and rusted bars of the prison on the tiny island they'd landed on, only to hunt for fresh water, and immediately broke him out to bring him on board.

The fourth and fifth joined at the same time. Mark was an old childhood friend of Jeno's, years and years ago when Jeno's parents - still alive then, God rest their grumpy souls - had taken him to London to school. Jeno doesn’t think he’d ever forget the moment he’d first seen Chenle - gleefully cackling as he threw a flaming bottle into an already burning building. When Jeno had caught up to him, grabbing his arm before he could throw another bottle, Chenle spun around, mouth stretched into a large grin and eyes glimmering as strong as the blaze behind him. If that first meeting wasn’t the best indicator of Chenle’s entire personality, nothing else ever would be.

All in all, they were a tiny crew but a tenacious one. Four years together - having gone through the worst of times and the best of times - had made them closer than blood could ever make a family. Through the blood, the sweat, the loves lost and found, they remained one unit; forever strong, beating, five hearts that operated as one.

Still Jeno wondered, watching Jaemin stare out at the horizon, his eyes dark and sad, what would they have _truly_ been like - what levels would the _Siren’s Song’s_ crew have grown to if their captain hadn’t lost what he had. If he wasn’t always searching for someone long gone.

🌊

They dock at Tortuga in the midst of bright sun, which would be perfectly fine if not for the fact that they didn't have a single wisp of wind. Jeno glares at the still waters below grouchily, silently cursing the weather as a drop of sweat slides down his spine, itchy and irritating, before immediately recanting it. It never did well to question the sea. They were mere passengers aboard her and anything other than respect to the cold murky waters that lay below meant an instant death.

Mark stumbles on deck, a wide smile on his face and hair scraped back by a bandana, too long to let loose any longer. “Well, I’ll see you all in two days,” he says brightly, tipping his cap at Jaemin.

“Jisung,” Jaemin says, eyes glued to his map. “Please follow him.”

Jisung scrunches his nose up in disgust. “I don’t want to. All he does is get drunk and chase after girls, and then they… go off together.”

“That’s exactly why you should follow him,” Jaemin says fondly ruffling Jisung’s hair, smile widening when Jisung ducks away, raking a hand through his hair as if Jaemin might have messed up the peach tangles any further. “He’s going to get robbed again.”

“I’m right here,” Mark breaks in, indignant.

Jaemin rounds on him. “You always get in a fight,” he says, only half teasing. Mark makes a face, offering no rebuttal. For his immense talents, Mark didn’t know when to shut up and that, more than anything else, always landed him in trouble. And he was far too trusting of the skirts he somehow managed to get into bed, leading to some very empty pockets the following morning. All in all, a terribly disastrous combination.

“I’m off anyway,” Mark says easily, shooting Jisung a warning look. “Don’t follow me.”

Jaemin glances pleadingly at Jisung and Jisung heaves a large sigh and follows Mark off the ship, pulling his low brimmed hat further over his head as he goes. Jeno knows Mark is highly capable of taking care of himself against any potential thieves. It’s just what he’d would do to them _after_ they attempted to rob him that worried him.

Jaemin doesn’t like to leave the ship on most days, despite her not requiring protection, but today seems to be an exception as he follows Jeno and Chenle off the boat, paying the dock fee as he goes. Jeno glances back to see the steering wheel vanish into nothing. He smiles to himself, turning back just in time to avoid a large beam swinging over his head. The ship protected herself, whether Jaemin was aboard her or not.

“See you tomorrow,” Jaemin says airily. “We’ll leave a couple hours after dawn, make sure you’re here by then.”

Jeno waves in acknowledgment as Jaemin disappears into the crowd, his tricorne hat pulled low over his distinctive hair. As soon as his hand drops, he feels something wrap around his arm, tugging insistently. Jeno looks down, eyebrow arched to find Chenle grinning at him, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

“Are you staying with me today?” Chenle asks, his hand sliding down to tug at Jeno’s thumb before sliding back up to his arm as they leave the crowded docks, wandering the low-town.

“Do I have a choice?” Jeno shoots back and Chenle laughs, dragging him closer. They trip through alleyways, wandering aimlessly. Usually when they dock, Mark disappears to fuck someone until he blacks out while Jaemin vanishes to do his own mysterious, and Jeno’s sure, nefarious deeds. So that leaves Jeno, Chenle and Jisung wandering the streets, or Jeno alone as Chenle and Jisung slink off to create mischief, except this time it’s just Jeno and Chenle, and that never bodes well for him. The alleyways become thinner as they walk further away from the edge of the island, the thick distinct scent that made up Tortuga entering their lungs and making them half dizzy as if merely having their feet on the island’s ground was enough to intoxicate them.

“ _Jeno_ ,” Chenle sings pleadingly. “Don’t be mean to me.”

“I have to,” Jeno shoots back as Chenle drags him into a full pub, expertly avoiding the crowd and finding a free table by the open windows, overlooking on the rough dance floor from above. “Otherwise you’ll take me for all I’m worth.”

Chenle grins. “And you’re the fool that lets me every time,” he says, flagging down a barmaid and slamming down two full pints in front of Jeno as he turns, gleeful. “What does that say about you?”

 _What indeed?_ Jeno thinks wryly, knocking his glass against Chenle’s and taking a long drink. It’s refreshing, the icy liquid sliding down his throat and settling pleasantly in his stomach. Jeno heaves a giant sigh and rakes his hair back, welcoming the breeze that wafts through the open window.

They both get far too drunk far too quickly, as Jeno tends to forget all his responsibilities when he’s with Chenle and Chenle has no sense of responsibility in the first place. It’s rather enticing when Jeno considers it, how Chenle can go through so much, see so much shit in the world and still remain as happy and cheerful as he is.

It’s only long after the crowd has cleared and a few stragglers remain, and the moon hangs full and silver high in the sky, that Jeno pokes Chenle up from his stupor. Chenle blinks blearily at him from where’s he’s stretched his upper half across the small table, fingers dangling off Jeno’s side.

“Come on,” he says, hauling Chenle up with difficulty. Chenle likes to imitate a wet noodle when he’s drunk - Jones’ above knows why. “We need to find somewhere to crash - or head back to the ship, at least.”

“I don’t wanna,” Chenle whines. “I get seasick.”

Jeno stares at the limp boy in his arms. “You get seasick...on our ship?”

Chenle pouts up at him. “Please don’t make me go back there tonight, it’s _so_ far away.”

Jeno sighs. “You’re paying for the room,” he says, letting Chenle lean against him as they trip out of the pub.

Chenle laughs lazily. “I never pay for anything, Jeno.” They stumble through the darkened streets while Jeno tries his best to remember the way to the old inn they like to frequent on the few stops they’ve made at Tortuga. “Oh, it’s this way!” Chenle yells delightedly, and Jeno shushes him, casting a look at the open windows above.

“Be quiet, do you want us to get killed?” Jeno demands, heading the way Chenle points. Chenle has an innate talent for remembering directions, no matter how long it's been or how many twists and turns they've had to follow. Or how drunk he is.

Chenle huffs. “You have no sense of adventure.” He pulls them to a forceful stop, yanking at Jeno’s arm until he lets go. “Jeno.”

Jeno turns to face him with a sigh. His head is spinning and he just wants to go to sleep, but Chenle is far too strong of a force to ignore. “Yes, Chenle?”

Chenle peers at him, hands on Jeno’s shoulders and backs him up against the alley wall. Jeno allows it, only because the faster he lets Chenle say his piece, the faster he can go to sleep. Chenle tips his chin up to Jeno, blinking. “Why don’t you kiss me?”

Jeno looks down at him, pressing his lips together on instinct and he can’t help the glance he shoots to Chenle’s mouth before forcing his gaze back up to his eyes. Chenle raises an eyebrow, clearly not fooled. “Why do you want to be kissed?”

Chenle rolls his eyes. “Why would anyone _not_ want to be kissed?” He asks, leaning forward. “Kissing is quite fun.”

Jeno raises an eyebrow at him, half surprised. He wonders when Chenle found someone to kiss, when he hung around the crew half the time and Jisung the other half. “You found someone to kiss you? And you actually managed to shut your mouth long enough to do it?”

With a moue of discontent, Chenle pulls away. “Don’t be so mean to me, Jeno,” he says before affecting a pout and mock-glaring up at him with blurry eyes. “You never know when I’ll take revenge.”

“I’m never mean to you,” Jeno sighs. “I’m just the responsible one.” This crew - his life aboard _The Siren’s Song_ was everything to him and he wasn’t about to risk it all for a simple kiss. No matter how badly he wanted to kiss Chenle.

The crew always came first.

Chenle’s smile fades and he crosses his arms, staring at the ground. Jeno follows his gaze to their boots, Chenle’s muddy and Jeno’s clean - well as clean as they could be after trekking through Tortuga’s dusty alleyways. “Sometimes, Jeno,” Chenle says lightly looking back up at him and Jeno almost pulls back when their noses collide. When did Chenle get so big? So tall that he was nearly at Jeno’s eye level? Chenle continues, wrapping his hand around the back of Jeno’s neck and pulling him close. He smiles, a wicked little thing and Jeno hates his heart for stuttering in its steady beat. Chenle smells like lavender, despite having no access to the flower and his eyes sparkle even in the dim light. “Sometimes, being responsible is not fun _at_ _all_.”

Their gazes meet and Jeno feels trapped in Chenle’s eyes. Almost in a trance, he leans forward and for a second, for a brief, heart stopping second, it feels like Chenle really will kiss him. But just before their lips touch, Chenle steps back and Jeno stumbles, feeling as if he was teetering off the highest step at the top of a staircase.

“What-” Jeno starts, startled but Chenle’s lips twist wryly and he steps fully out of Jeno’s arms.

“I’m not going to kiss you when you don’t want it,” he informs Jeno, before turning away with a flounce. “Come on Jeno, dawn’s almost here, and I have no intention of spending the rest of the night in a dark alleyway with a boring boy.”

Jeno follows, stung, noticing that all of a sudden, Chenle doesn’t seem as drunk as before.

🌊

Jeno wakes to Chenle asleep on his chest.

They had taken a tiny room at the edge of the island because no matter how much Jeno had insisted, Chenle refused to go back to the ship and had promptly collapsed on the single rickety bed, dragging Jeno down with him when he’d just tried to sleep on the floor.

The sun is about to rise, the edges of its gold fringe peeking out above the edge of the sea, and Jeno sighs. It’s warm and comfortable despite Chenle draped over half of him, and Jeno just wants to slide back into sleep’s waiting arms, but he knows Jaemin would throw a fit if they weren’t off on time. For an otherwise lawless captain, he was ridiculously stringent about punctuality.

“Chenle,” Jeno says, poking him on the shoulder. Chenle makes an irritated noise and buries his face deeper into Jeno’s neck. Jeno closes his eyes, summoning up his strength. Curse this irritating, frivolous, magnetic boy who yanked Jeno left and right and seemed to have _fun_ doing it. “Chenle,” Jeno repeats, poking him harder. “Wake up. It’s dawn.”

“Fuck the dawn,” Chenle mumbles and Jeno can’t help the laugh that slides slowly out of him like honey, still clinging to the edges of his sleep.

“Say that to the captain’s face,” he says, trying to slide out from under Chenle’s body, but Chenle just clings tighter.

“Fuck the captain too,” Chenle pronounces and wraps his arms tightly around Jeno’s waist, seemingly intent on falling back asleep.

“Right, that’s great but-” Jeno starts, but before he can finish his sentence, there’s a loud crash outside the window and yelling starts up, angry and shattering the quiet peace that had covered them in the dawn.

Chenle snarls, propping himself up and glaring out at the sky. “What the _fuck_ ,” he seethes, messy lavender bangs falling in his face. “Don’t they know it’s morning? And people are _sleeping?_ ”

Jeno stares up at Chenle before remembering himself and sliding out from underneath his body before he can do something stupid, like yank Chenle down for a kiss he doesn’t deserve to have.

“Let me see,” he says, shoving his feet in his boots and walking over to the window.

“Why bother?” Chenle grouses, shoving his face back into the bed. “It’s just random stupidly loud drunks with half a wish to get killed.”

Jeno doesn’t bother reminding Chenle that last night he was _also_ a stupidly loud drunk with half a wish to get them killed. He’s sure it wouldn’t be received warmly. Instead, he leans out the window trying to catch a glimpse of the rabble. When he does, all the warmth drains out of him and he slumps, elbows catching on the window sill.

“Not random drunks,” Jeno sighs, staring down at the street where Mark was slamming his fist into a large man’s jaw, laughing wildly as he does so while Jisung was scaling the ribbed side of the wall with ease, leaping onto the roof, just out of reach as a pair of burly men reach him, their faces contorted in anger. “ _Our_ stupid drunks.”

By the time Chenle and Jeno make their way down to the street, weapons drawn and at the ready, half the men are unconscious on the ground. Jisung is still atop the roof, peeling an orange with his knife and watching Mark fight the last man. Even from this distance, Jeno can tell Mark’s playing with him, dragging the fight out so the man gets more and more frustrated.

“Just end it,” Jeno calls, wary as they cross the street to stand under the roof where Jisung's perched. Jeno looks up at him. “What happened?”

Jisung snorts. “He fucked someone’s wife - I couldn’t make it out through all the yelling.”

Chenle whistles, a pleased expression crossing his face as he watches Mark dance backward from a clumsy blow. “Go Markie.”

Jeno scrubs a hand over his face. He’s so fucking tired and Chenle hasn’t looked at him once since they left the inn and he just wants to get back on the ship, get back to equilibrium. Get away from the unease that always builds up within him when they're on land for too long.

His attention gets drawn back to the fight as the man Mark’s fighting lets out an irritated bellow, reaches into his pocket and draws -

“A fucking gun.” Jisung jumps off the roof, landing neatly on the street, about to sprint to Mark's rescue. As Jeno raises his pistol, a figure darts out an alleyway and slams a brick down on the man’s head, knocking him unconscious.

“What the fuck,” Chenle states in shock. Mark seems to be a similar state, looking up from the body to the figure who had knocked him out with wide eyes. They make their way over, Jeno keeping his gun at the ready. An ally is rarely that, Jeno has learned the hard way, but it eases some worry in him when Mark doesn’t seem poised to fight.

“-it handled,” Mark was saying as they come up to him.

“You were toying with him,” the figure says, which turns out to be a man, more a boy by physique. When Jeno moves around to Mark’s side, he blinks, mind going blank.

The man is slight, dark hair brushed down over sea bright eyes, and a pair of full lips twisted in discontent. _Not human,_ Jeno's mind informs him and he vaguely acknowledges it, still staring. No human could look that beautiful.

"So?" Mark asks, irritated. "Why do you care?"

"It was getting annoying," the man says, clearly unafraid in the face of Mark's climbing frustration. "You're welcome, by the way. I _warned_ you about her last night didn't I?"

"Thank you," Jeno breaks in before Mark can say something completely stupid and half way rude, and get into a second fight in less than an hour. The rest of the conversation filters into the dazed part of brain, and he blinks, turning to Mark. "You know him?"

Mark's lips twist in distaste. "No," he says, jerking his chin at the man. "He was boarding in the house I..." He trails off, a flush decorating his freckled cheeks. Jeno closes his eyes against the harsh glare of the sun, half wishing he had ignored the yelling outside his window and gone back to sleep, leaving Mark to his fate.

"Can't you ever keep your dick in your pants?" He snaps, regretting it only a little when it comes out harsher than he intended. The man snorts, amused and Jeno can't help the small flush of pleasure that curls in his stomach. He truly was beautiful and it never hurt to impress a beautiful thing.

Mark narrows his eyes at Jeno. "It's not like you ever get your dick wet, how would you know?"

"While this is all very charming," the man breaks in, rolling his eyes. "I'm afraid I have to leave, otherwise I'll be stuck here for another week."

Jeno perks up, ignoring Mark's seething. "Where are you headed?"

The man gazes at him and Jeno's heart stutters. He's never been one to fall in thrall to obvious beauty, but there was something about him, about the way he spoke, accent curving over the vowels that Jeno flattened out, about the way his hands were still covered in red dust from the brick he had used to slam over the attacker's head, about his eyes, an unnatural cerulean sparkling in the bright sun that had slowly crawled over the sky, that enthralled Jeno.

As if he hadn't already learned from the past. That beautiful people were more likely to dismantle you down to your very bones and crush you into nothing. That beautiful people were like a sea storm, something that came hard and fast, turning the skies dark and the world grey. And when it disappeared, all that was left were the pieces to pick up and try to fit back together, even though they were broken and useless.

"Anywhere," the man says, snapping Jeno back to the present and away from the shattered remains of the past. "Somewhere. Don't have a clear destination."

"We have a ship," Jeno offers. "And no specific destination."

"What the fuck are you doing?" Mark hisses, smacking Jeno on the arm.

"He saved your life," Jeno points out, widening his eyes guilelessly. Mark's jaw sets. It probably wasn't the best idea to piss off a trained assassin, but Jeno couldn’t bring himself to care.

"I'm not-" he starts but stops as Chenle and Jisung come up to them, having made sure Mark's attacker wasn't about to get up anytime soon, peering at the stranger in a mix of delight and interest.

"Who's this?" Jisung asks boredly, popping the last bit of his orange in his mouth and flinging the peel at the unconscious figure still laying face down on the street. The peel lands squarely on the man’s head and Jisung’s mouth twitches in a faint, self-satisfied smile.

"This is our new passenger," Jeno announces. Jisung and Chenle stare at him and the man's mouth curls in amusement. How pretty.

"What do you mean he's our new passenger?" Chenle asks, eyes narrowing.

Jeno looks away from him. "I mean, he saved Mark's life-"

"He did nothing of the sort," Mark cuts in, glaring.

"And now he needs passage and I'm offering it to him," Jeno continues placidly as if Mark hadn't spoken at all. He'll pay for it later, but being First Mate had to mean something other than being forced to take first watch when needed. Otherwise what was the point.

"Do you even know his name?" Jisung reasons, rational as always.

Jeno turns to the man, eyebrows raised in a silent question. The man meets his gaze, mouth twisting into a pretty smirk. "It's Renjun," he says, and Jeno's heart sings for a second. What a pretty name for such a pretty man.

"Well, Renjun," Jeno says. "Would you like to join us for a journey?"

Renjun smiles.

🌊

The _Siren's Song_ is still anchored when they return to the docks, for which Jeno is thankful. He doesn’t think Jaemin would be petty enough to leave four-fifths of his crew behind on Tortuga, of all places - but Jaemin's mood is as changeable as the sea and just as unpredictable.

"Finally," Jaemin says, lifting his hat off his face from where it sat, blocking his face from the bright glare of the sun as he lay flat on his back on the deck. "I thought I said dawn."

"We ran into some trouble," Jeno says easily, crossing by him to throw his scabbard and sword on the table bolted down to the planks by the stairs.

"When do you not?" Jaemin asks, gaze landing on Renjun as he gets to his feet. "Who's this?"

Jeno turns around to see Renjun staring back at Jaemin, his eyes flicking over him before narrowing his gaze. " _Oh,_ " Renjun says, and a pit starts to form in Jeno's stomach when he sees Renjun's eyes get caught on Jaemin's vivid pink hair. The hair that was as well known as Jaemin himself.

"What?" Jeno breaks in and Renjun blinks at him, then grabs Mark who had been standing beside him, ignoring his noise of warning and flips his wrist over, pushing the bands and loops of dirty fabric that cover the inside of his arm up his forearm to reveal the tattoo that branded his pale skin. The tattoo that every member who sailed aboard the _Siren's Song_ had. A tattoo of an upside down ship, the waves curling menacingly over the main mast. The tattoo of a ship drowning. It was a brand for whomever crossed their way. A mark to show where they belonged to. A _warning_.

"Oh," Renjun repeats, staring down at the tattoo before his eyes flash up to Chenle and Jisung, taking in their hair. "I knew it."

"What did you know?" Mark snaps, yanking his hand away and shoving the bands back down. There's a soft click of a safety being undone on a gun and the tension rackets up, the still air growing thicker around them, making it difficult to breathe.

Jaemin's standing still, face pleasantly neutral but Jeno can see every line in his body poised for a fight. It's not a fight Renjun will win, even if he isn't entirely human. Not aboard Jaemin's territory. Not outnumbered five to one. And call it selfish, but Jeno doesn't want to spend the rest of the afternoon helping to scrub blood out from the wood before it can set. He steps up beside Jaemin.

"What do you know?" Jeno echoes, meeting Renjun's eyes.

Renjun tilts his head, and his expression changes to something more pleased, satisfied. Behind Renjun, Chenle shifts, knife sliding out of his sleeve. Jeno shoots him a quelling look, a warning to stand down. Chenle meets his gaze and sets his jaw, eyes darkening.

"Na the Mad." Renjun says, flicking his eyes to Jaemin, who raises an eyebrow in silent acknowledgement. Renjun smirks. "I know what you're looking for." Everything goes still. Jisung's mouth drops open and Mark's fists clench. Jeno's mind goes terrifyingly blank, and for a second it feels like his fingers lose all strength, like his gun would drop down onto the deck, leaving him defenseless in the wake of this verbal blow.

Jaemin's expression changes so fast, Jeno feels goosebumps start to trickle down his back. His faint smile drops and his eyes darken, mouth twisting into a furious snarl. Around them, the ship starts to creak in warning and the sails, already drawn to sail, start fluttering despite there being no wind.

Renjun smirks, either ignorant of the racketing tension around him or uncaring. Either way it's dangerous, more dangerous than Jeno can articulate. He raises an eyebrow at Jaemin. "Captain Na," he says, and his voice is chillingly amused. "You lost someone, didn't you?" Jaemin shifts and Jeno's heart floods cold.

Renjun smiles wider, letting the pause draw out, thick and near unbearable before finishing his sentence. "I know where you can find him."

Jaemin's jaw sets; a knife flicks out from his sleeve, and he lunges.


	2. lost souls in reverie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is where the nonlinear portion of the story starts! from here on out pretty much every chapter will flip back and forth from 'before' and 'after'

**_Before_ **

The sea is loud.

That’s what Jaemin loves about it the most. He loves the sound of the wind in his ears, loves the slam of water against the hull of his ship, as if trying to take it down by mere force alone, _loves_ the roar of the sea, the declaration it makes, the war cry it utters, the challenge issued to those who dare sail upon it. Jaemin loves it all.

“Two minutes and falling fast,” Mark calls from portside and Jaemin grins, twisting the wheel two spokes to the right to catch the wind just right. There’s a thunderstorm brewing to the west, the sun is going to set, and in two minutes, they’ll catch up to the merchant ship that had desperately been trying to escape them. A futile attempt; nothing was fast than _The King_.

“Load the canons,” Jaemin calls cheerily and Chenle’s answering laugh can be heard from below deck. His crew were just as much creatures of chaos as he was. Perhaps more, sometimes.

“One minute!”

Jaemin lets go of the wheel, allowing the ship to guide herself. He grabs one of the ropes tied to the mainmast and braces his feet against the deck, pulling back as far as possible, the rope taut to get the swing he needs.

“Five, four,” Mark counts down as they slide up against the merchant ship, slicing through the waves with ease, gaining ground in seconds.

“Two… One-”

“Fire!” Jaemin sings, dashing forward, the rope clutched tightly in his palm, and the answering roar of the canon helps him launch higher into the air. He hangs for what seems like forever, gazing down at the sea, at the terrified faces staring back at him, at the deck he’s about to land on.

Jaemin lands.

A gun fires.

🌊

The sea is silent.

Jaemin leans over the side of the ship, staring down at the still waters with a frown. It’s not like they need wind to move - his mother had more than taken care of that - but Jaemin despises the still ocean. It oftens means something was wrong, or was going to _go_ wrong.

His crew is as listless as the water, spread across the deck, taking in the cool weather before it passes in favour of hot, relentless sun. The sun streams down in spots through the cloudy cover and Chenle had been quietly following them all afternoon, crawling from one warm spot on the deck to the other as the clouds moved and napping there.

Jisung was perched up in his usual spot on the crow’s nest, long legs slung over the side and from what Jaemin could see, he was also asleep. Even Mark seemed bored, having finished cleaning his knives, laid out gleaming and polished on the deck table, his legs throw up by them and his hat pulled over his face.

Only Jeno was busy, having stolen a trunkful of books from the merchant ship they had raided and was now poring over them, frowning down at the small script, his tongue poking out a little.

Jaemin considers the steering wheel and places his hand on it. It grows uncomfortably hot in an instant and Jaemin snatches his hand away before he gets burned. “Fine,” he grumbles at the wheel. “I get it, you don’t want to move.” The wheel, predictably, stays silent. It was useless trying to move the ship when she didn’t want to and Jaemin lets it go. They could use a break anyway; three ships raided in the last two weeks - it took a lot out of the crew. Jaemin however, lived for it. Chaos was his favourite constant. The sea, the other.

Jaemin peers over the railing again, wondering if he should just jump overboard and swim around the ship to stave off his boredom. But it’s too cold to do so and so he simply stumbles down the stairs to the main deck and flops down on the ground next to Chenle, pushing him over a little so he can soak up the sun as well.

Chenle had moved close to where Jeno was leaned against the starboard side, and so Jaemin can clearly hear the amused huff he lets out at them. “You’re like a couple of cats,” he says and Jaemin opens an eye to glance at him. Jeno smiles over the top of his book before he gasps, dropping it so it lands on his thighs with a _thud._ “Let’s get a cat.”

“Let’s not,” Jaemin murmurs, closing his eyes again, unable to stop the soft smile that drifts over his lips when Chenle makes a noise and curls into his shoulder, his warmth soaking into Jaemin. “They’re nasty and mean.”

“So are you,” Jeno points out.

Jaemin hums, feeling the heat sink into his bones, weighing down his limbs and his eyes. “Only when I have to be.”

“I’m sure that merchant vessel we raided last week would disagree. Given that they lost half their ship and _clothes_.”

Jaemin frowns. The new coat Jaemin had found in the First Mate’s cabin was fabulously over the top, all red velvet and gold braiding. And he knew Jeno had found the same pleasure, if not more, in taking the books. “Let me nap, Jeno.”

“Let me get a cat, Jaemin.”

Jaemin groans. He turns onto his stomach and lets the sun warm his back, patting Chenle’s arm blindly when he makes an annoyed noise. “ _Why_?”

He can _hear_ Jeno’s shrug. “They’re good for mice in the hull, they’ll keep them away from our food and they’re cute. Why not?”

Jaemin sighs and wills himself to drift off to sleep. With any luck the wind will either pick up tonight, or his ship will get her act together and decide to move, and he’ll be able to work at the wheel. “Let me nap and you can get whatever you want.”

Jeno laughs warmly, and the last thing Jaemin hears before he drifts off under the sun is his warning tone. “I’m going to hold you to that, Captain.”

🌊

Two days later, they still haven’t moved.

Jeno informed him they were running low on some supplies. “I’m not worried though,” he says with a frown that belies his words. “We’ve got enough basic food and water to last us a couple weeks.”

“I am,” Jaemin murmurs, keeping his voice low so as to not worry Chenle and Jisung, who had pulled some cards out and were loudly chatting to each other on the other side of the deck. Mark had disappeared under deck to finish inventory. “The ship doesn’t want to move, and the weather’s not cooperating.”

He runs a hand over the side of the ship. _Please do something,_ he thinks. _This is maddening_. One of the ropes holding the fore sail down loosens and comes flying at them. Jaemin catches it just before it slams into his chest and Jeno jumps back with a surprised noise.

“Fine,” Jaemin snaps, flinging the rope back and watching in irritation as it slides along the deck slowly and snakelike, before climbing back up the pole and refastening itself. “I get it, no moving.”

Jeno sighs. “I’ll let them know,” he says. “We might have to start playing cards again, just to stop dying of boredom.”

Jaemin snorts. They had to institute a ban on the whole crew playing cards at one point, after the last had ended in blood with accusations of cheating and one of Mark’s precious knives having been held hostage until the cards had been revealed. “Then we’ll really die,” he says.

🌊

A week later they haven’t moved ten feet.

Mark stares at where the anchor is locked into place on the side of the ship and swivels to Jaemin, a testy look on his face. A week under nonstop sun has darkened him, so much so that the freckles spattered across his cheeks and nose were almost hidden. “Can’t we row our way out of here?”

Jaemin raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re suggesting five people row a pirate ship meant for a hundred.”

Mark shrugs, restlessly flipping one of his butterfly knives through his fingers. Out of all them, Mark hates being idle the most and Jaemin can only imagine how maddening it must be to be stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do but listen to Jeno carefully sounding out words to himself as he attempts to pick up reading after not having touched a book in years. “It’s got to be better than lying around all day waiting for the ship to move itself.”

Jaemin snorts. "You're welcome to try, but you and I both know the ship won't budge until she wants to."

Mark sighs, raking a hand through his hair. It falls back in his face, messy and long and he looks at Jaemin through black bangs, the scar on his neck glinting as he tilts his head up. "What do you suggest we do then, Captain?" The title stings, even though Jaemin's sure Mark didn't mean it that way. Or maybe he did. Mark was always inscrutable, even to those closest to him; his true feelings always hidden behind a thick veneer of salacious behaviour and glittering blades.

Jaemin looks back at him before letting his pride go. "I don't know," he admits, and the raised eyebrow Mark grants him in lieu of verbal surprise is subtly gratifying. "If this was an enemy, if we were about to be captured, if it were a ship we’re trying to catch, I'd have a plan, but this time it's the sea against me and I don't know what to do."

Mark hums, and tosses his knife up in the air. Both of them tilt their heads to follow the motion of the blades spinning gracefully through the air, glinting in the bright sun. It lands easily in between two of Mark's fingers and Jaemin is suddenly struck by the scars littering Mark's hands, deep and shallow cuts, criss-crossing their way across his knuckles and palms. How much practice must it have taken for Mark to handle his knives as he does now, as if they were an extension of his body, a small part of his soul that he manifested into physical objects meant to hurt and kill.

"Then I suppose we trust the sea," Mark says lightly. "She does seem to favour you so."

Jaemin makes a contemplative noise, staring out at the ocean, glittering blue and white under the bright glare of the sun. Did the ocean favour him? Or was it simply toying with him? The number of crimes Jaemin had committed on the sea simply wouldn't be erased, he wasn't stupid enough to think that. But retribution was perhaps a while off.

"I suppose we do," he agrees.

🌊

In the middle of the night, Jaemin wakes.

He lays there, staring at the wooden ceiling of his cabin, wondering what it was that had awoken him from his slumber. Jaemin rarely dreamed and even when he did, it was hard to keep the memory of them close, the last wisps of the dream slipping from his fingers before he had a chance to fully grasp them. They'd given up keeping watch after entering the second week with no movement but Jaemin's certain Jisung sneaks up to the crow's nest after everyone’s retired to keep an eye out on the horizon.

Jaemin slings his feet off the bed, slipping out the door. There are four cabins aboard the _Song_ , three on the aft side by the captain's quarters and one on opposite side of the ship, reserved for those who fell sick or came down with infections in their wounds, and whoever wanted one was welcome to take it. But most of the time, the rest of them chose to sleep in the hammocks below deck, the port holes in the side of the ship thrown open to allow the salty sea breeze in. Jaemin had tried to join them, but the paranoia of leaving his ship alone to attack had driven him back up to the main deck.

Jaemin casts a glance up at the crow's nest and his suspicions are confirmed when he sees a slim figure curled up by the mast.

"Jisung," he calls and can't help the fondness that bubbles up in his chest, sweet and fizzy, almost like beer rising up his throat after gulping it down too fast, when Jisung's golden head peeks over the side, nose twitching in a very mouse-like fashion. Jaemin beckons him down. "Join me."

"One second," Jisung calls back and Jaemin climbs up the stairs to where the wheel sits, silent and unmoving. He leans his elbows against the railing staring out at the dark ocean, as still as it was a week ago, two weeks ago.

Jisung slides up next to him, his footfalls hardly making any sound as he joins Jaemin. “We haven’t moved,” he says quietly and there’s a world of meaning in those three words.

Jaemin hums, staring down at the black water. “Yes. I don’t know what we’re waiting for.” It’s not an easy admission for him to make despite having said the same thing to Mark a fortnight ago. But Jisung won’t judge him for his ignorance.

Jisung turns to looks at him and Jaemin mirrors his position, looking back at him. Jisung had grown so much, transforming from the tiny, terrified boy Jaemin had found to someone who was strong and quiet, observing much through those still wide eyes.

“You should talk,” Jisung says quietly and Jaemin blinks out of his memories, stumbling back to the present.

“Talk to who?”

Jisung jerks his chin at the sea. “Out there.” He doesn’t look offended when Jaemin snorts, only peers at him with those damnable eyes. “You never know what might work. We’re clearly stuck here for a reason, and I don’t think you’re going to get your reason until _you_ reach out.”

Jaemin swallows. He thinks of the merchant vessel they’d attacked weeks ago. The fight had been bloody and brief and they’d come away far richer and fuller in their stocks than they had expected. Was this his punishment? It hardly could be. Jaemin had done so much worse in the name of so little. But life was for the living and Jaemin intended to live it out to his fullest. His punishment would meet him at the Locker.

“Why’d you stay with me, Jisung?” He asks instead of voicing these thoughts.

Jisung doesn’t look surprised at the sudden question, only tilts his head at Jaemin. “Why’d you save me from that prison, Captain?” He asks back.

“Because you were cute,” Jaemin says with a faint smile, memories of a younger Jisung flashing through his mind, cheeks softer than they are now, eyes wider, more innocent. Jaemin really never stood a chance. “But that’s not enough for you to put up with all that I do.” Jisung’s history hangs in between them, like a ghost, insistent yet ephemeral.

Jisung shrugs, and the ghost vanishes, wisps drifting away on a still wind. “Maybe I don’t care about that.” He looks out at the ocean, fingers playing with the frayed ends of the rope wrapped around the railing. Jisung was the only member of the crew who didn’t cover his tattoo up. Even Jaemin did because his hair was distinctive enough to not add a damning tattoo on top of that. But the tattoo lay stark against the pale skin on Jisung’s wrist, illuminated strangely by the moonlight pouring down on them, just as strong but nowhere near as wearying as the sun that had beat down on them all day. “Maybe I’m here for another reason.”

“And what’s that?”

Finally Jisung smiles, small and so mischievous Jaemin’s heart swells with pride. “You’re not the only one who’s got secrets, Captain,” he says before turning away to climb back up the mast to the crow’s nest. “And I intend to keep my cards close to my chest.” He glances down at Jaemin, only a few feet higher than him and Jaemin looks back up at him. Jisung looks like a fairy, in the moonlight, small and sprightly. “Talk, Jaemin,” Jisung says. “You’ll find a lot more gets solved with words than with guns.” Jaemin’s lips twist at the offhand reprimand and Jisung grins, unrepentant, before resuming his climb up the mast.

“Get some sleep,” Jaemin calls after him and Jisung waves a hand backwards at him before disappearing behind the main sail, feet balancing easily on the thin posts.

Jaemin sighs and sinks down to sit on the cool wood. He tips his head up to the stars, mapping out constellations with his eyes until his vision blurs. He considers Jisung’s words before deciding there really wasn’t anything left to lose and getting up. Another week of waiting and he was sure Mark was going to snap and start using them for target practice out of pure boredom.

The figurehead of _The King_ was, ironically enough, a woman, her wings spread out on either side of her and a torch held alight in her hands as she flew off the bow, forever frozen in time. She was beautifully made; it was clear to see how much craftsmanship had gone into every nick in stone for her feathers, every arch of her face for a solemn expression and Jaemin felt half guilty about climbing onto her back. But this was the best way for him to say what he needed to without any of his crew overhearing.

He strokes his hand down the hair of the woman, fingers catching in the grooves of her crown, and is pleased when his ship lets out a quiet hum in response.

“What are you making me wait for?” Jaemin asks, his question skittering over the still water reflecting the stars overhead. “What am I doing here?”

A breeze brushes across Jaemin’s bangs and he nearly falls off the figurehead in his shock. It had been so long since he felt wind. “Am I waiting for something?” He asks and the wind comes again, stronger. Jaemin hums, thinking. He knows his crew barely understand his relationship with _The King_ and Jaemin himself hardly understands how his ship moves through the ocean while defying her nature. But his mother was nowhere near to ask questions and there was no one else who he could go to for answers.

“I’ll wait,” he says and the wind picks up, stronger and stronger, creating waves that slap against the body of the ship. A wordless approval.

Jaemin sighs and leans back against one wing, staring back up at the stars.

He could wait. He had done so for so long, another day or two could hardly hurt.

It turns out Jaemin didn’t even have to wait that much, as the next morning he was woken by Jeno yelling in his ear, and nearly making him fall off the figurehead for the second time in hours, and was greeted with the sight of the sails fully out and caught in the strongest wind he’d ever seen outside of a storm.

“Finally,” Jeno yells over the slapping of the sails, catching a rope as it flies towards him and knotting it quickly to the correct rail. “I thought we were going to die out here!”

“No, you didn’t,” Jaemin calls back, grin stretched wide over his face as he turns the wheel the way it wants to go. Across the deck, Jisung meets his eyes and sends him a small, secretive smile, nose scrunching up as he does so.

Jaemin grins back and throws his hat down on the ground to feel the wind whipping through his hair, his clothes, hitting him so strong, it felt like he might fly away, sailing up into the heavens, far, far away.

🌊

They sail for two days, following the wind and the horizon and Jaemin never wants to stop but Jeno, responsible, square-like Jeno, puts his foot down.

“We _need_ water,” Jeno says when Jaemin tries to point out an undiscovered part of the map only a hundred or so miles northeast of their current position. “No,” Jeno cuts him off before he can even start. “Water, Jaemin. Food. Shelter. Three things humans need to _survive_. And currently we only have two-thirds of that.”

Jaemin glares at him but Jeno doesn’t quail only stares back at him until Jaemin relents. “Fine,” he snaps, rolling up the map. “First land we spot, we’ll draw anchor.”

“Good,” Jeno smiles sweetly and walks back down the stairs to the main deck, leaving Jaemin alone by the wheel which spins clockwise, adjusting their course by itself.

“I can’t believe you’re on his side,” Jaemin grumbles down at it. “You’re _my_ ship.”

The wheel stays silent.

The first land Jisung spots, Jeno makes them drop anchor at. It’s not a large island, isn’t half as populated as Tortuga is but there’s a decently sized village with a few fishing vessels floating around the makeshift dock at the eastern side of the island, which means they’re closer to mainland than Jaemin would have liked. But they manage to find fresh water in a few hours, stocking up their stores and stealing what they don’t feel like buying - Chenle being the biggest exploiter of the rule before splitting up. Though they hardly can get much, the island is far too tiny for even Chenle to feel good about stealing a lot.

Two and a half weeks on the same 100 foot long ship had not endeared them any further to each other and Jaemin took full advantage of the distance, hiking over the back of the island, to breathe in the thick sea breeze that wafted up the side of the hill, perfumed with the sweet scent of the golden flowers the covered the back of the island.

He walks for a while, looping over beaten trails and onto unfamiliar roads. Jaemin was hardly worried about getting lost. The island, while fairly large, was mostly still wild brush and flowers and if he stuck to one side, he was unlikely to wander off in the middle of the jungle. Though jungle was perhaps too generous of a word for a mere hilly plain.

Just as Jaemin walks back around to the main village he spies a hidden pub nestled behind a jut in the island. It was hugging the side of the rock, the grass having grown around the top of the thatched roof and down the other side, looking like it’s one good gust of wind away from falling apart. Even from this distance, Jaemin can hear the laughter and clink of bottles. He didn’t remember seeing another pub down in the main village so this must have been the only one. What an odd place for a pub.

Jaemin hesitantly sets down the rough, beaten path to the pub, drawing his hat tightly over his hair as he goes. It’s dim when Jaemin steps inside, and he blinks several times to adjust to the low light. There’s an unusually large number of people for a decrepit pub before dusk has even fallen and Jaemin eyes them all carefully, tipping his hat down further to cover the recognisable shade of his hair and finds a seat in a back corner, away from prying eyes.

He people watches for a while, sipping slowly at the beer the barmaid had brought over to him, flipping a few pennies in between his fingers as he does so. It’s only when he’s just about to leave, the sun having dipped behind the horizon, leaving a faint impression of light behind, that the pub springs into motion. There’s a flurry of movement at the front, opposite of where Jaemin sits, and the thatching in the roof is pushed aside to reveal a little circle in the roof, letting in a small beam of fading light. All the occupants scrape their chairs around to face the stool sitting in the circle and Jaemin narrows his eyes when a boy steps onto the makeshift stage, perching on the stool and crossing his legs.

“It’s a cool night tonight,” he says and Jaemin doesn’t expect his voice to be so clear, to carry across the pub, to command the room’s attention the way it does. There’s a rumbling of assent and the boy smiles, closing his eyes. His hair looks like it’s been birthed by silver, setting his sunlit skin alight. “It’s a night, of nostalgia, wouldn’t you agree?” A rumble of assent goes around and Jaemin eyes the crowd for a second before turning his gaze back to the boy. The boy smiles, sweet and lovely. “I thought you might, so I’ve got some old ones tonight, sing along if you know them.”

Then he opens his mouth and starts to sing.

🌊

Jaemin can’t get the melody out of his head. It’s nearly noon of the next day and the song is still running through the forefront of his mind, again and again, the boy’s face the center of every thought he has. It had been one of the last songs the boy had sung, and the previously singing crowd, drunk and red in the face with emotion, thumping their glasses on the table along to the beat, had quieted down to hear the song properly. The song is stuck in his ears and the boy is stuck in his head.

“Captain!”

Jaemin turns to see Jeno waving at him and crosses the street to join him. “Are we leaving today?” Jeno asks, eyes bright. A day amongst people has done him good and even Jeno’s white hair seems to have life in it again, falling in his face in a way, that if Jaemin had ever been interested in another human being, he would have found rather attractive.

Jaemin hums. “Tomorrow maybe?” The boy from last night flashes in his mind. “I think another night around people that aren’t the five of us will do us some good.”

Jeno raises an eyebrow at him. “And here I thought you’d be aching to swim off this island by this morning.”

Jaemin shrugs. “Maybe I’ve changed.”

“I wouldn’t ever guess that,” Jeno snorts, clapping a hand on Jaemin’s shoulder. “Have you eaten?” Jaemin shakes his head and lets Jeno lead him to the docks, where the sea was blowing a blustery wind that sang of salt and the distinct smell of adventure, and where Jisung and Chenle had persuaded the fishermen to teach them how to grill the fish in the best way that only fishermen who had the secrets running in their blood for generations know.

Jaemin goes back again that night.

He sits at the same table, with his hair just as tightly covered, and lowers his gaze to the warped wood, not looking up at anyone until night falls. He doesn’t want to risk getting into a fight and unfortunately, sometimes just looking at someone the wrong way is enough to get Jaemin in a fight. He’s sure it has something to do with his hair - curse his mother and her penchant for fairy magic. He waits and waits, sipping slowly at the mead until the boy sits at the front again, eyes just as bright, smile just as sweet, and opens his mouth to sing a song that was just as compelling as the night before.

Jaemin doesn’t look away the whole time, the coins he’d been playing with laying abandoned on the table and he’s distantly aware that his mouth might be hanging open in a very unattractive fashion. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t look away. _Can’t_ look away.

The music curls through his ears, sliding down into his veins, going bone deep and making him dizzy. Jaemin is captivated. He couldn’t tell you a single word that the boy sings but he knows that, just like this morning, tomorrow Jaemin will walk around with his head in the clouds and his ear full of the boy’s song. He stares at him, taking in his face with his full cheeks and his pretty lips, pink and full as they are, looking untouched in the warm firelight and a sudden urge rises up in Jaemin, unlike anything he’d ever felt before, to have those lips pressed against his own, to know how instruments for the loveliest sound he’d ever heard would taste.

What a strange feeling it was. Strange and insistent.

🌊

Jaemin returns. Every night for the rest of the week he goes back to the pub and listens and listens and _drowns_ in the music, in those bright golden eyes, in those lips.

It’s like being held prisoner, but willingly so, going back night after night to be enthralled only to stumble out of the pub with his head spinning and his heart conflicted.

His crew is getting restless. Despite having spent two and a half weeks aboard ship, they’re eager to return to the waves and Jaemin knows with a dread that steadily grows, that his time is limited. That he’ll have to leave the loveliest thing he’d ever set his eyes on behind.

“What are you hiding?” Mark asks him one night. They’ve taken to sleeping by the docks, ignoring the danger of the elements and braving themselves to the wind. It’s better than being cooped up in the one tiny inn the locals had opened up just for them, the building having been closed for months before that.

Jaemin rolls his head sideways. Everyone is already asleep, Chenle’s head resting on Jeno’s arm and Jisung, with his penchant for heights, is curled up on a flat rock above them, one leg dangling just above Mark’s head. Mark is staring up at the stars, and when he swallows, his scar flutters along with the movement of his throat, bending like a snake tattooed onto his skin.

“Why do you assume I’m hiding something?” Jaemin asks lightly. Mark scoffs, not looking at him. It’s an insult to both of them that Jaemin would even ask such a question and they both know it. “One more night,” Jaemin relents because Mark deserves some kind of explanation. He’s been with Jaemin through everything, done _everything_ that Jaemin had asked of him. Mark deserves an explanation, but lying here, only a couple hundred meters away from the siren that haunts his every waking moment, Jaemin cannot summon up the truth. It would be easier when he was miles away. “One more night, and we’ll leave.”

“And you’ll tell me what you’re hiding,” Mark states, turning his head finally to look at Jaemin. It’s not a question.

Jaemin nods. “And I’ll tell you.”

🌊

One last time.

Jaemin enters the pub, a little earlier than he had the days prior, but he merely chalks it up to an eagerness to return to the sea as he finds his spot at the back.

One last time.

Jaemin sips at the sweet mead, staring down at the table the patterns of which he could trace in his sleep now.

One last time.

There’s a rumbling, the familiar sound of chairs scraping back and Jaemin looks up ready to listen to the siren’s song one last time and -

He nearly falls off his chair in his surprise. The boy is sitting in front of him, head tilted as he stares at him, unabashed curiosity in his gaze. His silver hair is curled prettily over his forehead and his lips are pursed in concentration. Jaemin jerks his gaze away from them before he can incriminate himself and meets the boy’s gaze.

“You’ve been watching me,” the boy says, an eyebrow lifting in silent question. “Every day for the last week.”

Jaemin clears his throat, trying to recover. “I have,” he acquiesces.

The boy raises the other eyebrow as if surprised at the admission. “I’m Donghyuck,” he offers and Jaemin takes a moment to absorb that. What a pretty name for such a pretty boy.

“So,” Donghyuck continues lightly and Jaemin wishes that he’d known, wishes that the universe had sent him a sign that this was coming, wishes he’d known that whatever was going to pass through those pretty lips was going to change his life forever. Donghyuck smiles, and it’s dizzying. “They tell me you’re a captain.”


	3. your eyes whispered “have we met?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a discussion, a voyage and an escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leo is an angel of a human being who allows me to bug her at crazy times about the motivations of fictional characters. this chapter wouldn't exist without her grammatically perfect hand guiding the way.

_**Before** _

Jaemin stares at Donghyuck. "You... want to come with me? On my ship?"

Donghyuck shrugs. "I'm interested." His golden eyes linger on the edge of Jaemin's cap, where he's sure his hair is peeking out. "You're not as subtle as you'd like to think, parading around here with that hair and that crew."

Jaemin ignores this. It's nothing he already doesn't know. Subtlety was a tool he only chose to use when he might be at a disadvantage. Here, on a tiny island where the population was mostly made up on old fishermen, their eyes no longer as bright and their hands calloused from the years spent at sea, Jaemin held no fear of being attacked. And even if he did, he was certain the battle would not pose much of a challenge. "Aren't you afraid? You know who I am, clearly."

Donghyuck grins, and Jaemin is dumbstruck. There's something curling inside his chest, strong and insistent, tugging down on his heart as if trying to pull it down to the depths of his rib cage. "I'm not afraid of much," he says flippantly. "Besides," his eyes stay on Jaemin's hair again before he smiles. "I'm intrigued as to what makes a notorious pirate captain listen to little old _me_ sing for five nights in a row."

For one mad second, Jaemin considers telling him the truth. That Donghyuck’s voice had taken ahold of him, had curled its way through his brain, that it had haunted Jaemin, following him, echoing every step he took from the very first moment he’d opened his mouth. That when Jaemin blinked he saw silver and gold and pink. That the last few days had passed in a daze, caught in Donghyuck’s song. For one mad second, Jaemin considers confessing all of this, considers allowing Donghyuck that small ounce of power over him.

But Jaemin had not gotten to where he was now by being truthful. Had not become the captain of the most feared ship on the seas this side of the Earth by allowing others to learn his weaknesses. But this implied that Donghyuck somehow had made him weak - and Jaemin bristled at the thought when it passed unwittingly through the forefront of his mind.

“I was intrigued,” Jaemin offers as a platitude, and Donghyuck’s lips twitch in a faint, amused smile at the echo of his own words. How pretty. Jaemin’s heart sits up straight, at attention and immediately all he can think about is how he can make that smile grow. _What was happening to him?_

Jaemin was no stranger to desire but only so in that he had observed his crew being held party to it. He _was_ undeniably a stranger to the feeling of desire crawling over him, looping thin, dangerous fingers around his neck and pulling him closer and closer. But _this_ , this was far too close, far too uncomfortable around his shoulders and burning in his chest, to be anything but the spark of desire catching fire in him. He knows he’s staring at Donghyuck and yet he cannot stop.

Jaemin Na did _not_ desire.

There was only one love in his life, and she was cold and watery and more likely to drown him than ever love him back. He’d never felt anything like this and he should quash it before it took over him. He would not become beholden to this strange creature, with his strange beauty and even stranger, more magnetic voice. He would not-

“How much?”

Jaemin blinks, jolting out of his thoughts that had spun faster and faster, taking him down like a whirlpool takes down a ship. “What?” He asks in confusion, very much on the backfoot. He had to gain control, he _needed_ to come back. Take control.

An eyebrow raises before a mischievous look overtakes Donghyuck’s face. Jaemin swallows through a suddenly closed off throat. “How much is the bounty on your head?”

The laugh that springs forth unbidden from Jaemin startles them both. Donghyuck’s smile only spreads and Jaemin relaxes for a second. This was an easy topic, hardly dangerous. “I lost count,” Jaemin admits. “But I’m sure it’s quite large by this point.”

“Dangerous,” Donghyuck laughs and Jaemin grins, pleased for a brief second before he pauses frowning.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Ah, but you’re not asking the _right_ questions,” Donghyuck parries back, looking mightily pleased with himself as he slides Jaemin’s drink towards himself for a long sip. Jaemin’s gaze gets caught on his lips before he snaps back. He’s quickly losing control.

“If you want passage aboard my ship, you’ll have to tell me why,” Jaemin says and it’s a reminder of what Donghyuck’s asking him, of who occupies the upper hand. It’s well needed, for him and Donghyuck because Donghyuck purses his lips, clearly considering and Jaemin takes the break to collect himself.

Control.

“I want to see the world,” Donghyuck says and it’s surprising enough that Jaemin stares at him. It’s not the answer he was expecting; Jaemin expected more banter, more snark, anything that would finally wear him down because he had suspected that Donghyuck was not someone to go down without a fight. But it’s a soft answer, open and allowing Jaemin to make whatever he felt like of it. “I’ve been on this island for months and I’ve been waiting for someone who’s willing to rescue me from it.” Donghyuck tilts his head and meets Jaemin’s gaze, lips pursed slightly as he considers him with big eyes. “Will you? Rescue me?”

Donghyuck is clever. He’s using language that puts him on the backfoot, makes him look weaker in Jaemin’s eyes, and Jaemin is almost taken in by it. But then he sees the glint in Donghyuck’s eyes, hard and dark and he realises that however pretty the words Donghyuck whispers to him are, whatever languid sentences he twists to fit his narrative, Jaemin must not believe any of them. Dangerous. Beautiful and dangerous. Beautiful and dangerous and _clever_. Gods above, he’s _perfect_ for Jaemin. He’s falling already.

Jaemin raises his eyebrows and sits up straight. Control. “You don’t look like the type to be rescued,” he points out and the flash of pure _pleasure_ that strikes through him when Donghyuck smiles at him, hard and glittering, like a diamond that would cut skin open, is terrifying.

“I’m not,” Donghyuck allows. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“Ah, but this time I suppose you’re asking the right one,” Jaemin mimics in mock sadness, looking down at his fingers twisting together on the tabletop. Donghyuck laughs.

“And now, all that’s left is your answer. Captain.” Said softly, sweetly. He’s a demon with golden eyes and Jaemin is allowing himself to be dragged in. He looks up to meet Donghyuck’s captivating gaze, tips his head to the side and smiles.

🌊

“Everyone,” Jaemin announces, hands behind his back, feeling very much like a schoolteacher with his crew staring back at him, Chenle and Jisung’s eyes wide, Jeno’s and Mark’s narrowed. “This is our new passenger.”

“We don’t take on passengers,” Chenle blurts in blank confusion.

Beside him, Donghyuck’s smile widens sweetly.

“Do you even know his name?” Jisung asks and Jaemin flashes him a fond look for the reprive from the mildly accusing glares.

“This is Donghyuck,” he starts with vigour before trailing off when he realises he doesn’t know Donghyuck’s last name. He stares at Donghyuck in silent question for half a second before Donghyuck thankfully picks up on it.

“Lee. Donghyuck Lee,” he says and Jaemin can visibly see the effect his voice has on his crew. Mark’s angry flush transforms to something darker and Jisung blinks, eyes widening. Chenle takes a step back, always prudent, forever cautious around that which he did not know. Jaemin himself considers Donghyuck; he’s _something_ that’s for sure, but at first glance - and second, and third and on and on - Jaemin had not been able to parse it out.

“You took him aboard when you didn’t even know his family name?” Mark asks, low and controlled.

Jaemin doesn’t look at him. This is not a conversation for now; Mark will have plenty to say and Jaemin will hear him out when he does, but he will do so in private. “I did,” he says easily before wielding the one power he has over his crew, the one he almost never uses because they might fly under his colours, and they might bear a tattoo that binds them to Jaemin, but they are never subordinate to him. “I’m the captain, aren’t I?” Jaemin asks and that is that.

Donghyuck is put up in one of the cabins, his meager items carefully placed on the bed and Jaemin allows him free reign over the ship and its many books and crannies before opening the door to his own cabin and meeting Mark’s gaze from across the ship in silent invitation.

“Was he your secret?”

Jaemin turns around as the door to his cabin opens, Mark stepping in deliberately, slowly. His hands are free of his ever-present knives but both Jaemin and Mark know that he doesn’t need any kind of weapon to damage Jaemin. Both of them also know that no matter how angry Mark is, he would never touch Jaemin, and that knowledge, above all else, is what bolsters Jaemin. Mark will not hurt him and he will not leave him.

“I’m surprised you didn’t find him,” Jaemin chooses to say instead of the multiple other answers that spring to the tip of his tongue as he sits down on his bed, giving Mark the illusion of power as he stands over Jaemin. “There was only _one_ pub on the island and given our crew’s history with drinking…” He trails off, meeting Mark’s gaze.

Mark isn’t appeased. “You allowed him on your ship. Why?”

“He asked.”

Silence. Mark stares at him, lips pressed together so tightly, Jaemin worried he was going to cut himself on his teeth. “He asked,” Mark repeats. “He _asked_.”

Jaemin tilts his head. “Why are you so angry?”

“He’s not human,” Mark snaps and it seems like it’s taking him a lot of control to not lunge across the cabin and strangle Jaemin. “Can you not tell?”

“I can tell,” Jaemin says easily. “As much as you’d like to think otherwise, I’m not an idiot.”

Mark glares at him and Jaemin congratulates his past self for having the forethought to appoint Jeno as the First Mate. Blessed, easy-going Jeno, who was the perfect counterpoint to him and Mark; the ever present balance in a crew of volatile personalities. He and Mark would have torn each other to shreds within the first month had been his second in command. “I’m angry because you seem charmed,” Mark says flipping back to Jaemin’s previous question. “And you should know better than that.”

And that is ridiculous enough that Jaemin abandons all sense of maturity and laughs incredulously, right in Mark’s face. “I’m not _charmed_ ,” he says huffing through his laugh, before considering. “Well, not in the magical way you’re thinking. You are too paranoid, Mark.”

Mark narrows his eyes at him, not pleased by Jaemin’s levity. “And you are not be stupid enough to allow a stranger on your ship simply because he _asked_.”

“Ah, not any stranger though,” Jaemin points out, grinning, placing his hands behind him on his bed and leaning back. “A very beautiful stranger.”

Mark blinks, thrown off and Jaemin revels in the stunned silence that follows. Jaemin Na did not desire, his crew knew that as well as he did. Except in this one situation when he did. Jaemin was just as surprised too, but it would do no good to let Mark know that.

“I know he’s a possible threat, and it’s suspicious he wants to sail with us. But he’s also very pretty and I’d like to have a pretty thing aboard for once,” Jaemin says, an explanation that he didn’t have to give but is doing so anyway. Silence. Jaemin raises an eyebrow. Mark has laid down his issues and Jaemin has heard them and refuted his main concerns. There is nothing else Mark can say without going against the word of the captain and they both know it. It rankles at Jaemin to lord his one title over Mark like this but they would never get anything done if he didn’t. Besides, it’s not like Jaemin never listened to Mark. “Any other accusations you’d like to throw at me?” Jaemin asks and Mark purses his lips.

“He could still do something to hurt you, to hurt this ship, this crew,” Mark points out, fingers twisted together, in a rare display of anxiety. But his anger is fading, replaced by concern and that is something Jaemin is familiar with. He softens. Above all, Mark’s main concern is them, is _always_ them and Jaemin knows it’s unfair to bring aboard an unknown threat, shattering that tenuous peace Mark always had on their ship, content in the knowledge that they were safest here.

“Then I suppose you will have to do what you do best,” Jaemin says and Mark’s eyes flick up to meet him, gaze dark and knowing and his hands fall to his side, concern replaced by the steadiness; his eyes hardening at the familiar call of a new task. Jaemin smiles. Mark is perhaps his favourite monster. “And protect us.”

🌊

Over the next few weeks, Jaemin watches Donghyuck settle in with the crew with all the ease of a man who had been land locked his whole life and had now found himself on a ship for an indeterminate period of time. Though he _knows_ Donghyuck has sailed before; no one could have such intimate knowledge of how a ship worked without having occupied some semblance of control over the day to day tasks that came with running a ship.

His crew is uneasy around him. Mark is cautious and wary, watching Donghyuck constantly, hands flipping knives in a dizzying pattern as he does. If Donghyuck was unnerved by the attention, there was no indication from him. Chenle didn’t know what to make of him and Jisung, for once, chose to approach the situation with quiet curiosity, instead of choosing to linger behind Chenle’s back like he usually would. Only Jeno seemed fine with it, but there was rarely an occurrence that Jeno was _not_ fine with. He was rather impenetrable that way.

“How are you settling in?” Jaemin asks.

Donghyuck is sitting on the deck table, squinting down at a hand of cards. On the chair, sitting beside his knees, Jisung has a deck in his own hand, cards easily spread out against the considerable length of his palm while Donghyuck had his own hand split into two hands.

“Is this what you do?” Donghyuck asks, ignoring Jaemin’s question. “Sail around the seas for weeks on end until trouble finds you?”

Jisung snorts to himself, quietly placing a card face up on the pile. Donghyuck glances over the edge of his cards and frowns, looking back at his hand.

“We actually go looking for trouble,” Jaemin hums. “But we’re on a short… hiatus right now. Out of courtesy for our new passenger.” He gets rewarded with twin looks: a mix of concern and amusement from Jisung and disdain from Donghyuck.

“That’s quite insulting,” Donghyuck says. “Assuming I might run away at the first sign of trouble.”

Jaemin looks at him. It’s been interesting to watch Donghyuck these last few weeks. He seems to operate without any sort of fear whatsoever, as if confident in the lack of danger, or if not, confident in his abilities to save himself from whatever danger may approach him. “No,” Jaemin says silkily. “It’s just that you really couldn’t _run_ anywhere if there was trouble and I get a headache whenever we throw people in the brig. The acoustics echo awfully down there.”

Jisung looks at him, unbridled surprise on his small face but Jaemin doesn’t look away from Donghyuck. He’s played the part of the nice, host captain these last few weeks but it’s tiring quickly. He’s not any closer to knowing Donghyuck wants and having him aboard the ship, so close to his crew, is making Jaemin antsy.

“You’re still assuming I _would_ run,” Donghyuck points out and sets his cards face down on his thighs before bracing his palms against the table and leaning back on them, staring up at Jaemin, golden eyes glittering in the bright sun. “You’re not living up to your reputation Captain Na, I’m almost inclined to be disappointed in you.”

He’s baiting Jaemin and he’s not even _trying_ to be subtle about it. Jaemin knows its bait and yet he can’t push down on the urge to turn his ship around and find the first fight he can hurl himself into. “Would you like me to run someone through?” Jaemin asks idly. “Find the first poor brig rat I can and make him walk the plank? Make him shoot himself in front of his family? Will that satisfy your curiosity?” They were all rumours surrounding Jaemin and all patently untrue. Except for the running someone through with a sword one, that was true. But in Jaemin’s defense, the thief had tried to sneak aboard his ship _while_ Jaemin was aboard it. Stupidity had to be punished as such.

Donghyuck doesn’t quail. “Oh it’s not curiosity, Captain,” he says lightly and tips his head to the side, far enough that the curve of his neck is exposed, the collarbone arching under his skin starkly standing out, the golden skin gleaming. He smiles at Jaemin’s obvious distraction, pleased. “Merely surprise. I thought you would be the bloodthirsty villain you were always portrayed as.”

Jaemin moves forward and tugs Donghyuck’s shirt up, high enough that it covers the dip in his chest and meets his gaze. “Give me time,” he whispers, so close he can feel the press of Donghyuck’s knee against his thigh, can hear the faint stutter in his breath. It’s soft and barely there, but it’s enough of a victory for Jaemin who smiles wider, baring his teeth. “I’m rarely anything else.”

Jisung looks faintly nauseated as Jaemin turns to leave.

🌊

Despite the pride that keeps Jaemin from immediately running down the first vulnerable ship he sees and burning it to the ground simply because Donghyuck _baited_ him, they run into trouble relatively quickly. It’s not Jaemin’s fault, really. Others see the large black pirate flag, they see _The King_ ’s emblem, they see the name and they immediately overestimate themselves, think that they are going to be the ones to bring down the most dangerous crew on this side of the Earth. They become cocky and it’s Jaemin’s calling, his _duty_ , to show them they’re not. To hit them with his force and watch them burn.

A month or so after Jaemin had brought Donghyuck aboard, he wakes up in a prison.

There’s a throbbing pain in his skull and when Jaemin lifts his hand to carefully check for bleeding wounds, he brushes against a sizeable lump. The rest of his crew is scattered around the small cell, in various stages of injury. Jaemin sits up, and regrets that action in the next second as his head spins, nausea rising far too fast up his throat.

“Whoa,” Jeno says easily, steadying him. “Slow down. You got hit really hard.”

“What happened?” Jaemin chokes out, leaning into Jeno’s hold, grateful for the steadiness he grants. The last thing he remembered was stepping off the ship onto the docks of a large island, near the mainland, Car-something-or-the-other and as soon as his feet had left the ship’s plank, everything had gone dark.

“We got ambushed,” Jeno says grimly. “They saw our pirate flag from miles out. It didn’t matter that we changed it, they already knew what _The King_ looked like. They knocked us out as soon as we touched the deck.”

Jaemin takes in his crew. Jisung is curled up in the corner, eyes wide and mouth set in a firm, flat line, fingers digging into his arms. Jisung never did well with violence, especially when directed at them and he did even worse when captivity was a risk. Jaemin shoots him what’s hopefully a reassuring smile and is gratified when Jisung meets his gaze, the blankness in his eyes reducing somewhat. Mark and Jeno looks relatively unharmed but Chenle is bleeding from the clavicle and both arms. He doesn’t look pale though and seems to be clotting so Jaemin isn’t too worried. Donghyuck is sitting by the bars of the cell, head tipped back against the wall and eyes closed, completely untouched.

All in all, it wasn’t the worst they’d ever been off in a kidnapping which was a cheering thought.

“Any idea where we are?” Jaemin asks.

“Main prison, most likely,” Mark answers. “They took all our weapons while we were unconscious.” He scowls. “Even my hidden knives.”

Jaemin takes stock of the situation, trying to clear his woozy head. “Okay, okay.” He closes his eyes, trying to think. “Has anyone come by? Talked to you?”

Mark shakes his head. “Donghyuck was the first awake and then me. They walk by us, but they don’t say a word. I don’t know what they’re waiting for.” He glances at Donghyuck then back at Jaemin with a frown and Jaemin understands what he’s implying. Donghyuck might have spoken to the men, might have orchestrated the whole thing if he was wily enough, and from what Jaemin had seen, he was plenty wily enough to have the potential to do so. Donghyuck’s eyes are still closed when Jaemin glances at him.

“They’re probably trying to get on the ship,” He mutters, frowning down at the dirty straw that was sparsely scattered on the floor. Did they somehow have them confused with horses? A kitten runs by the bars, meowing loudly as it does so and Jaemin watches it go, eyes narrowed. Cats often meant people were around and that was not an ideal situation for an escape.

“It’s most likely a single gang that runs the island,” Mark says thoughtfully, eyes flicking to the symbols etched above the bars in the stone. “They’re wearing similar clothes, same jewelry and it doesn’t seem like there’s very many other prisoners here. And they were prepared to ambush us, very well prepared.”

Jaemin takes all the information in and takes a breath.They had no weapons and they were all stuck in the same cell, no one to rely on. Donghyuck blinks his eyes open and tips his head down to look at Jaemin.

“Finally,” he says airily. “You’re awake. I thought you’d be unconscious forever.”

Jaemin glares at him, despite the throbbing it causes behind his eyes. “You try being clubbed over the head and then we can talk.”

Donghyuck huffs out a derisive laugh. “Can you walk?”

“What?”

Donghyuck gestures at Jaemin. “Your legs, Captain Na,” he says. “Can you use them?”

“What does it matter?” Mark snaps. “We’re stuck in here.”

Donghyuck turns to him, eyebrow raised. “It matters because I, unlike you, have a plan. So if you could keep the growling at a minimum, I’ll be able to think long enough to get us out of here.”

“I can walk,” Jaemin interjects. His headache is getting worse and he needs water, preferably his bed, and the magic of his ship around him again. “What’s your plan?”

Mark gapes at him. “You can’t possibly be trusting him!”

“Do keep your dog quiet, I’m trying to think,” Donghyuck says, not even looking Mark’s way as he snarls something wordless.

“Mark,” Jaemin says and Mark’s glare narrows. “If it gets us out of here, I’ll take it. Unless you’ve magically scrounged up another plan in the time I’ve been unconscious. Have you?” Mark’s jaw twitches but he stays silent. Jaemin nods wearily at him before waving at Donghyuck to speak.

Donghyuck clears his throat, humming gently to himself, before turning to all of them. “Okay, we don’t have wax - which would be best - but we’ll make do. Plug your ears, and hum very quietly to yourselves, and whatever you do, do _not_ listen to me.”

“And what are you planning on doing?” Mark asks with a low growl. “Cutting a deal to get us out isn’t going to work, they know who we are.”

Donghyuck smiles placidly at him. “I’m going to sing.” All of them stare at him and Jaemin can feel something nagging at the back of his mind but he’s far too woozy and dazed to try and parse it out. Donghyuck waves imperious fingers at them. “You can gawp later,” he says airily, tipping his head towards the bars. “There’s people coming and if you want this to work, plug your ears now. And it’s best if you look down and not at me, otherwise you’ll be too tempted to listen.”

Four pairs of eyes swing to Jaemin. “Do as he says,” Jaemin says, letting go of his grip on Jeno’s sleeve and bringing his hands up to his ears. He glances up at Donghyuck before tipping his head down. “I’m trusting you,” he warns.

Donghyuck shoots him a sweet smile. “A very wise decision, Captain,” he says before motioning for Jaemin to plug his ears. Jaemin does as he bids, lowering his head enough to give Donghyuck the impression that’s he’s not looking, before glancing up through his fringe.

Donghyuck throws them a fleeting glance before turning around just as the clatter of boots comes near. And Jaemin knows it’s a stupid idea, knows in his gut that he should trust Donghyuck’s warning, but he pulls his fingers away barely, just enough to hear the conversation. If Donghyuck is about to betray them all, Jaemin would like to be prepared.

“Hello gentlemen,” Donghyuck says and his voice gives them pause, enough to turn to him, eyes narrowing when they see the occupants of the cell.

“Why’re they all like this?” One man snarls, leaning forward to smack his gun loudly against the bars. None of his crew moves and Jaemin feels inordinately proud. “Hey!”

“They’re all exhausted,” Donghyuck murmurs, low enough that Jaemin almost doesn’t catch it. He moves his head further upwards, and his heart stops dangerously when he sees Donghyuck’s gaze, alluring and dark. He’s moving closer to the edge of the bars, looking up at the men through his eyelashes. Jaemin is incredulous for a second. Is Donghyuck’s plan to get them out all based on his art of seduction? “I was singing to them, and they fell asleep in seconds. Would you like to hear? I’ve heard my singing can be something of a salve to broken hearts.”

“Not likely,” the second man snorts, leaning down to bare cracked teeth at Donghyuck who, to his credit, doesn’t flinch back despite what must be an awful odor wafting from the dark cavern of his mouth. “He pro’lly made them faint with that voice. Look at those eyes - fucker looks like a whore more than a singer.”

Donghyuck smiles, moving closer, up onto his knees to gain some height. The position is far too suggestive and Jaemin has to fight down a faint flare of anger when he sees the third man, hidden to Donghyuck’s view, blatantly lick his lips. Disgusting. “I’m hardly a demon, sir. Just a boy who misses singing.”

“Oh, let him,” the first man says, sliding his gun into his pants, a pleased look on his face. “It’ll get him to shut up.”

Donghyuck’s smile sings of danger and Jaemin wonders how the men don’t see it. Blinded by lust, most probably. “You won’t regret it,” he says lowly before clearing his throat with a little sound. When he opens his mouth again, Jaemin realises he should have heeded Donghyuck’s warning.

He’d heard Donghyuck’s singing before, had drowned in it for five nights straight and he thought he’d heard everything to hear but _this_. This was something altogether different. The melody winds through his ears, and it’s clear that Jaemin hadn’t known what drowning really was. He sinks deeper and deeper and his fingers slip out of his ears further, lungs filling up with air tainted with Donghyuck’s song, choking him from the inside out. Donghyuck’s eyes are shut, ignoring the men moving closer, their eyes glazed, but just as Jaemin’s hands are about to fall down, baring himself completely to the dangerous song, Donghyuck’s eyes open, a golden warning in him as he glares at Jaemin and it’s all Jaemin can do, takes all his strength to slam his fingers back in his ears, ducking his head down so that he isn’t tempted to listen again.

Dangerous, he’d thought. Donghyuck was dangerous. But he hadn’t comprehended just how _much_ of a danger Donghyuck actually was poised to be.

Jaemin doesn’t know how long he sits there with his eyes shut and his hands squeezing over his ears so tightly, it feels like all the blood has left his palms, but soon there’s a tap on his shoulder and he looks up to see Donghyuck staring down at him, lips pursed.

“I told you not to listen,” he says, holding out a hand to help Jaemin up. “I _warned_ you.”

Jaemin leans down to tap Jeno, before turning back to him. “You didn’t tell me what you could do, how was I supposed to trust you?”

Donghyuck flashes a smile at him but it’s nowhere his usual strength or wit. He looks tired, as if singing for a few minutes was enough to drain the whole day’s strength out of him. “I’ve got to have some secrets of my own, Captain. Otherwise who knows when you’ll make me walk the plank?”

The rest of his crew are slowly getting up and Jaemin casts a glance over Donghyuck’s shoulder to the men still standing there listlessly, eyes fully glazed and mouths hanging open.

“Open the door,” Donghyuck orders without looking behind him and immediately one of the men springs into motion, smoothly sliding the key into the lock and opening the door.

“Come on,” Jaemin says, and grabs Jeno’s arm for support as Donghyuck leads them out. Just before he turns to the right, Donghyuck pats the cheek of the first man, just hard enough for it to be considered a slap.

“When we’re gone, I want you to go inside, lock the door and throw the key out the window, do you understand?” Donghyuck asks sweetly. “And when someone asks you where we’ve gone, I want you to tell them that we were never here, okay? No matter how much they insist, say that we were never here.”

The man nods and the other two behind him follow, heads bobbing up and down far more than necessary. They meet no one else on their way out and Jaemin glances behind him, just before they wind around the corner to see the men obediently following Donghyuck’s orders and slamming the cell door hard behind them.

They take what seems to be the back exit as it leads out into an empty alleyway and before Jeno can keep moving, Jaemin stops him in his tracks and grabs Mark’s sleeve as he makes to pass by. “Go take care of them,” Jaemin murmurs, eyes locked on Donghyuck’s figure still moving down the alley. “Meet us back at the ship. And Mark,” he pulls away from Jeno to whisper something in Mark’s ear.

Mark pulls back, an incredulous look on his face. “Are you serious?”

“Just do it,” Jaemin says, before taking Jeno’s arm again and following Donghyuck out.

When they’re a couple hundred meters away from the ship, there’s a loud explosion behind them and they all turn as one to see the prison go up in flames. Jaemin watches the smoke curl up into the sky, black clouds melting away into the bright blue sky, and smiles. Donghyuck is frowning when he turns back around. “You didn’t have to do that,” he says. “My orders never break.”

“Better they think we died than have to deal with it later,” Jaemin tells him, walking away.

Mark joins him just as they find the ship. The explosion had drawn all the men away from the docks and Jaemin feels an inordinate sense of relief when the plank draws out for him to step onto. His ship was his safe haven, though he would never say it out loud.

“Here,” Mark says, thrusting a basket at Jeno who drops Jaemin’s arm in favour of grabbing the basket before it drops. Mark’s cheeks are streaked with soot and there’s a mild burn on his arm and he’s carrying their weapons, all of them strapped around his waist and arms. Jaemin thumbs at the soot, grinning when Jeno shouts in joy, pulling off the blanket to reveal two kittens curled around each other, meowing loudly. Mark lets him do so, a tiny frown on his face. “I hate cats,” he mutters.

“A happy Jeno is a Jeno that doesn’t nag,” Jaemin tells him. “You did good.” He’s not talking about the cats. Mark meets his gaze.

“You’re going to have to do something about him,” he warns lowly. “You can’t leave that kind of power to trust, Jaemin. He could take control of us anytime he wants and none of us would be able to do anything about it.”

“Trust _me_ ,” Jaemin breathes, thumb still rubbing at the black mark on Mark’s cheek, dropping his hand when it finally fades. “Trust in my lack of trust in anyone but the four of you.”

Mark stares at him for a beat longer before nodding.

🌊

The night is quiet and Jaemin has a plan.

For once Jisung isn’t in the crow’s nest, which suits Jaemin’s plans and he loves when that happens. Thankfully his concussion has healed enough that climbing up the mast and the ladder doesn’t make him too dizzy. Jaemin swings himself into the little basket with ease, startling the man who stands there.

“It’s a cool night isn’t it?” Jaemin asks idly.

Donghyuck turns around slowly. “No cooler than most nights this week,” he responds, watching Jaemin closely. “Are we to finally talk about what you’ve been aching to discuss all week?”

“Not so much a discussion as it is a warning,” Jaemin says and he leans against the edge of the basket, crossing his arms.

Donghyuck raises an amused brow. “Well, go on then.” His power makes him unafraid and it’s irksome to Jaemin whose usual operations are based on the fact that fear is the most powerful motivator in any man.

Jaemin takes a step forward. He has to play this carefully. He has to keep control. “You asked me to take you on my ship to show you the world.” At Donghyuck’s acquiescing nod, Jaemin continues slowly, deliberately. “And I will. However, if it turns out that you pose even the slightest threat to my crew, I will not hesitate to slit your throat where you stand and watch you bleed out in front of me. Do you understand me?”

“And how will you do that?” Donghyuck asks softly, glancing up at him through his eyelashes. “When I could make you drown yourself with a moment’s song?”

Jaemin smiles. “Because, dearest siren of mine,” he whispers, lifting a hand to tip Donghyuck’s chin up, fingers burning at the first touch of Donghyuck’s skin. “You don’t affect me. Not the way you do other men and I will not allow you to sway me with your voice. I’ll kill you before you do that.”

He’d recognized it after the prison, when even despite covering their ears, his crew had seemed dazed for hours on end, sluggish in their movements, slow to react. Jaemin hadn’t felt anything like that, even when he’d been exposed to Donghyuck’s voice for at least half a minute. Another product of his mother, he supposes. Jaemin tilts his head. “Anything to say?”

“You’re a dangerous man,” Donghyuck starts, then trails off, staring at Jaemin with a strange look in his eye.

Jaemin tips his head down to look at him. The roost is far too small for two bodies to stand comfortably, and when he steps closer, he comes far too near to Donghyuck. Jaemin considers him before letting a sharp smile draw across his face. “Do continue,” he drawls. “I want to know where you were going with that.”

“You might be offended,” Donghyuck says, not making any move to back away. Not that he’d be able to achieve much. “And I’d rather not meet my end by falling from the roost of a pirate ship.”

Jaemin lets the smile grow. “Continue,” he says. An offer that is more of an order than anything else. Jaemin has the control now; it’s a headying feeling.

“You’re not a danger to me,” Donghyuck says. He tips his head slightly to the right, and his eyes flick restlessly over Jaemin’s face, taking him in. “You’re a dangerous man, but you’re not to me. No matter what threats you make towards me.”

Jaemin considers this. “I could kill you right now.”

Donghyuck smiles and it’s… shark-like. “I’m sure you _could_. You wouldn’t though.”

“And why not?”

Donghyuck leans in, still smiling. There’s a funny light in his eyes. “Because I saw how you looked at me, Captain Na. When I was singing in that pub on that miserable little island, I saw your face.”

Jaemin struggles not to react. Perhaps he’d underestimated Donghyuck. He would not go down without a fight. “And what did I look like?” He asks.

Donghyuck’s smile fades, and he looks contemplative for a second. He brings his hand up to ghost over Jaemin’s neck, hand placed in the same way he would if he were to strangle him. Mirroring the echo of Jaemin’s hand against his chin. Jaemin’s other hand clenches around his knife strapped to his thigh in a sudden reflex but otherwise he forces his body not to move. He doesn’t remember when the last time another person had come this close to him, had held him in such a vulnerable position. “Like you wanted to capture me,” Donghyuck says and it sounds like a song. Whispered and melodic. Haunting. “Like you wanted me in a cage for your own.”

“I’d say I’ve succeeded,” Jaemin says, tilting his head, mirroring Donghyuck’s position. “Look at where you are, songbird.”

Donghyuck looks at him. “Oh Jaemin,” he breathes. “I might be on your ship, but make no mistake,” he steps closer and their noses brush. Jaemin can hear the sea rush in his ears, too loud, too fast. Donghyuck smiles. “The moment I opened my mouth in front of you, you belonged to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i intriguing you yet?


	4. i have died everyday waiting for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a quest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hit such a strong case of writers block this week and didn’t think this chapter would ever get finished but it did! I am indeed uploading this at work because i’m bored out of my mind so uhhh help a girl out and drop some comments so I can stay awake~
> 
> ***There is an offhand mention of rape in this chapter, it has absolutely nothing to do with the plot and isn’t mentioned again but if you would still like to avoid it, skip the paragraph beginning with “There was no real reason for Renjun to say yes”

_**After** _

In all honesty, Renjun hadn’t woken that morning with the intention to board one of the most notorious pirate ships in history.

He’d woken, as did no doubt half the island, to raucous laughter and the nauseating sound of bones snapping loud and clear right outside his window, and in the span of ten minutes had found himself knocking a man unconscious and somehow inserting himself in the middle of a pissing contest between two sailors. _Honestly_ , this is why Renjun hated travelling to Tortuga - the egos were too big and the packages too small and far too disappointing. He preferred sticking to smaller fishing islands, where the smell of the sea was fresh and strong and _not_ drowned out by the thick stench of humanity. 

Renjun scrunches up his nose as he considers the pair in front of him, as diametrically opposed as two people could be. One was the very colour of ivory, from his skin to his hair to his teeth, exposed as he smiled a hesitant and half dazed smile at Renjun, eyes eagerly taking in Renjun’s form in the way all desperate men tended to do. The other was dark haired, and unlike his friend, every line in his body was tense, as if constantly on the verge of a fight, the veins in his arms standing out starkly. He remembers the black haired man. He saw him at the inn last night, eyes narrowed and dark as he seemed to take in every move of every other being in the inn without exerting much effort. Renjun wouldn’t even have noticed him if it wasn’t for the boy behind him, doggedly following his every step, blending into the background with ease. 

There was no reason for him to join their ship. Half a hundred boats arrived and departed from Tortuga’s docks a day and he could easily charm his way onto another vessel, one that probably smelled fouler but did not have a man looking like he was intent on snapping Renjun’s neck for simply taking away his fun. 

Another pair joins them. One of them, the boy Renjun had seen last night, and the other just as striking with lavender hair hanging in his eyes as he stares at Renjun with unabashed curiosity. Renjun takes in their strange hair colours and tries to parse out why his brain keeps nagging at this small detail. 

There was no _real_ reason for Renjun to say yes, to follow them down the winding roads down to the docks and to allow himself to become trapped aboard their ship for the foreseeable future. But in all honesty, Renjun was _bored_. And pirates often promised a sense of adventure that was rarely found aboard merchant ships. He did run the risk of being raped and robbed and his body tossed aboard for the fish to eat, but Renjun had not managed alone for so long without honing his weapons to perfection and he was hardly afraid of four men who looked more like boys. 

He learned their names on the way down to the ship and the nagging in his head got worse. They were unbearably familiar, but that kind of familiar that came with hearing the name of a character out of a fairy tale that had been entrenched in your childhood. A spark of recognition, but nowhere to follow it to find the source. 

Then it clicks. 

As Renjun stands on the deck of the _Siren’s Song_ , staring down at Mark’s tattoo, some instinctual part of him distantly recognizing danger in the way Mark was tensing up beside him, in the way prey recognizes its predator, before looking up to the captain, his face blank, he realises what had been prodding the back of his head since he’d met this strange crew.

The _Siren’s Song_. He hadn’t realised it. He’d known this ship, this crew, this _captain_ , by a different name. Renjun’s heartbeat ratchets up, pounding so loudly in his ears he can hardly hear himself think. 

Jeno is saying something to the captain and Renjun forces himself to focus. He’s got a handful of minutes, rapidly dwindling as they are, to get himself out of this situation or risk fighting his way out. His mind spins at a dizzying speed. What did he know? _Think_. 

The _Siren’s Song_ was easily the most dangerous crew on the seven seas, made of creatures that were more legend than mortal, bled more chaos than blood. Two years ago _The King_ had disappeared for months on end only to emerge as the _Song_ , and soon after the blood started to stain the seas more than it ever had, bodies and burning ships left in the trail of the _Song’s_ watery path. The captain was known to be unhinged and his crew did nothing to hold him back. Renjun knows the whispers, on land and in the ocean, and knows with a gut curdling certainty that he’s in grave danger. 

_Think fast, think fast. Faster than that._

Then it hits him, like an arrow squarely finding its mark on a target. A story Renjun had heard months and months ago, so long ago now, that he’d almost forgotten it. The _Song_ had lost someone. At the same time, the ocean had started warning off its children from the mainland. It wasn’t anything significant and when looked at on maps, Renjun could not parse out why every cell in him rebelled at the thought of going there. But the sea was the master and no creature, no ship containing half-blood humans, no entity of the ocean was allowed within ten leagues of that spot. 

If Renjun’s suspicions were right, and they usually were, whatever the _Song’s_ crew was looking for and the forbidden mainland were connected. Renjun smiles, letting every line in his body relax and looks up at the captain, feeling all his fear drain out of him. 

“I know what you’re looking for,” he says and watches, pleased, as all the humans react to him, shock and anger crossing their faces. The captain’s face changes and Renjun smiles feeling the familiar feeling of power settle over his shoulders like a king’s cloak. 

Oh, this would be fun. 

🌊

“Explain,” Na the Mad grits out and Renjun raises an amused eyebrow at him, kicking his feet up on the table and leaning back. 

Jaemin’s face had reddened from exertion as he tried to lunge at Renjun - presumably to carve his skin right off his face as he was rumoured to have done before - only to be caught around the waist by Jeno and bodily hauled back. Well, for all his unsubtle staring, Renjun had to admit that Jeno wasn’t completely useless. 

“Did you not hear him?” Mark asks, sharp, and Renjun turns his gaze to him. There was such a stark difference from the man he’d seen last night, half drunk and salacious, to this one with his eyes dark and his jaw so tightly clenched, it had to hurt. It spoke volumes about how Jaemin ran his ship, or at least ran his crew. 

“Is this your guard dog?” Renjun asks Jaemin in a bored tone, ignoring Mark’s question entirely. “He’s not doing a very good job of it, you know.”

Jaemin doesn’t tear his eyes away from Renjun. “I’m not here to talk about Mark. Tell me what you know before I rip your head off and feed you to the fish.”

Despite himself, a tiny bolt of fear shoots through Renjun. His knowledge is the only thing keeping him safe and he has no delusions about the fact that he would be disposed of as soon as Jaemin saw fit to do so. And Renjun knows that despite all his skill, he won’t survive a fight against these five monsters. 

Renjun swallows and sits up straighter, crossing his feet the other way and letting a haughty expression cross his face. He has to play this carefully. One wrong move and it was all over. “Have you heard of the Dead Zone?” 

Jaemin bares his teeth. “What the fuck does that have to with-”

Jeno’s hand comes down on his shoulder, cutting him off. “We haven’t,” he says easily, seemingly unafraid in the face of an insane pirate captain shaking with impatience and rage. “What is it?” 

“It’s a patch of sea,” Renjun traces the outline of the land on the table with his finger. “By the mainland. It’s forbidden to all sea creatures, we aren’t allowed to go there. And the warning starting coming around the same time your ship disappeared for months.” He looks up at all of them, meeting each one of their gazes. “And that’s where I think whatever you lost is.”

Mark snorts. “That doesn’t make an ounce of sense. Can I kill him now?”

“Mark-” Jeno starts, but Jaemin interrupts him, eyes narrowing and leaning closer to Renjun, hands flat on the table. He looks like a snake about to strike and Renjun forces himself to remain still. 

“He’s right,” Jaemin says, deadly quiet. The sudden change in emotion is jarring, but Renjun sees Jaemin’s calculating gaze. Sees the intelligence that simmers there, deadly and poisonous. “We can’t trust the word of a mere stranger, and we can’t spend time chasing down useless leads.”

“What have you been doing for this long, then?” Renjun questions, acerbically. “It _must_ be working given that you have _nothing_ to show for after two years of searching.”

Jaemin snarls, flipping back as fast as a pendulum swings but before he moves, Jisung’s voice cuts through the tension, clear and quiet. “What are you?”

Everyone turns to stare at him. Jisung looks down at them from where he’s perched on the mast above their heads, face neutral. 

“What?” Chenle asks in confusion. 

Jisung jerks his chin at Renjun. “He said ‘we.’ _‘We_ aren’t allowed to go there.’ He’s not human.”

All the stares swing back at him and Renjun tries not to flinch. As a whole they were a remarkably terrifying group, despite the foolery Renjun had witnessed this morning. He glances up at Jisung, contemplating. So there was one person Renjun had to keep an eye out for. 

“What are you?” Mark asks as he leans forward, placing his knife down on the table in a clear threat. Renjun isn’t impressed and he lets it show clearly on his face.

“I’m a half blood,” he says, because he has to give something up. Has to make a sacrifice for this to work. “The son of a mermaid and a human.”

Silence. Then Chenle snorts. “A fucking mermaid,” he says, shaking his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Renjun narrows his eyes at him. “Excuse me?” 

“How would you find him?” Jeno asks and Chenle stares at him in disbelief. 

“You can’t possibly be trusting him!” Chenle spits. “Does any of this make any sense to you? A Dead Zone? How does that explain where Hyuck was taken?”

Everyone stiffens and Renjun sweeps his gaze over them. Chenle pales, as if he’s said something he wasn’t supposed to and when Renjun looks to Jaemin, he's dug his fingers into the table, staring down at them coldly, clearly unbothered by the blood that welled up under his fingers as the splinters from the wood slid deeper into the skin. He didn’t react to the name, but Renjun privately thought that no reaction was just as telling.

Renjun coughs, breaking the tension and swings his legs off the table, sitting up. “Do you have a map?” He asks. “Of the eastern side of the mainland?”

“Here,” Jeno says, pulling out a map from the trunk beside the table and rolling it out. 

Renjun clears his throat again. The air becomes thick, rolling over them in suffocating waves and Chenle shifts, clearly uncomfortable. “So,” he draws a circle around the mainland. “We’re here,” he indicates Tortuga, several hundred leagues away before sliding his finger up the map, tracing out a path for them to follow. “And around here lies the Dead Zone. But it’s very difficult for me to lead you there without an added force.”

There’s a soft thump as Jisung lands on the ground next to them, tugging the map closer. “That’s the Navy headquarters,” he whispers and Renjun doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick up to Jaemin. 

Jaemin lets out a long, slow breath through his nose and closes his eyes for a second. It’s the first sign of true weakness he’s displayed, and more confusing than it is enlightening. The more Renjun expects Jaemin to act unhinged, the more controlled he actually becomes, and vice versa. His eyes slide open to bore a hole through Renjun. “How would you find him? What kind of force do you need?”

Renjun swallows. He’s never done this before, but he’s seen his father do it once and he knows the spell. However, there's no guarantee of success and that’s the one thing Renjun’s certain he needs to continue breathing.

“There’s a tracking spell,” he starts quietly. “If you have an item of clothing, a ring, anything that belongs to him, I can use that to trace a path on this map. It should cancel out, or at least overpower the need for me to stay away from there. And I can lead you right to what you’re looking for.”

Jaemin stares at him and Renjun meets his gaze squarely. It feels like a silent challenge, and Renjun knows if he quails, if he looks away, he’ll fail and the snake will swallow him whole. 

“Why do you care?” Jaemin asks, and it’s quieter than anything he’s said before, and everything, the crew, the ship, even the wind, falls silent. “What’s in it for you to help me?”

_Play this carefully._ Renjun smiles and takes a deep breath. _Game set._ “Oh,” he says lightly, reclining in his chair. The ship starts creaking, loud and demanding of attention, and above, the sails flutter despite there not being a strong wind. The anchor strains, groaning against the sea floor. Jaemin’s expression stays the same, but Jeno’s is the most telling. His face slackens and he stares up at the foresail, eyes widening. Renjun tilts his head. _Match_. “I’m just here for the fun.”

🌊

It’s almost shocking how fast the crew springs into motion once Jaemin gives his order. Any reservations they might have had, any disagreements they held towards Renjun’s plan, all of it vanishes when Jaemin tells them to start moving. 

The deck table gets completely wiped down with sea water and the map placed back on, lovingly stretched out with pretty paperweights procured from the depths of Jaemin’s cabin, and sprinkled with salt. Renjun takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself. 

“Do you have something of his?” He asks, flicking his eyes up to Jaemin, who silently twists a beautiful inlaid ring made of rose quartz off his finger and hands it to him. 

“They’re a pair,” he says quietly, eyes fixed on the map. “Will it work?” 

The wind blows a haunting melody through the sails, and no one speaks. Renjun clears his throat. He can’t imagine what he must have been like, the person they’re looking for, for the crew to look so overturned and uncomfortable. “It’ll work,” he says. “As long as it’s connected to him.”

He places the ring at the center of the map and strikes a match, summoning up all the magic that lives in him, that flows in his veins, that exists by the mere grace of the ocean. 

“Find him,” he whispers, blowing on the match. Nothing happens and for a split second, Renjun thinks he’s failed, thinks that this is it, that the ship is going to sail away with his bloody body floating behind it. But then the map bursts into flames and he jumps back with a surprised shout. The whole crew crowds around him, wide eyes curious as the flames lick across the parchment, burning the salt off until a thin path is traced, leading a black line to the place Renjun had traced with his finger. 

“That’s our path,” he says. “If your- if he’s wearing that ring, we can trace it right to him.”

They all watch Jaemin as he regards the map, breath bated as he plucks the ring off the burning salt with no care for the heat and twists it back on his finger.

“If you’re playing me for a fool,” Jaemin says lowly, not looking up. “If I discover that you’re lying to me, there is no magic, no force on this earth that will alleviate the pain I will put you through.” He meets Renjun’s gaze and takes Mark’s knife still lying on the table and gently turns it in Renjun’s direction. It looks less like he’s wielding an instrument of death and more like he’s holding a lover. “I will rip you apart limb from limb and watch you bleed out in front of me and when you’re begging for release, when all you want is the sweet taste of death, I’ll stop and start all over again. Do you understand me?”

It would be less haunting if Jaemin had said it with anger, if he’d spat it at Renjun, rage pouring from every tensed muscle in his body. But he hadn’t. He’d said it softly, almost like reciting a poem, and when he meets Renjun’s eyes, there’s a glimmer in his gaze that spoke of a thousand dead bodies drifting in a red sea. Unrepentant. It scared Renjun more than he could comfortably articulate. Jaemin lifts an eyebrow in silent question. 

“Understood,” Renjun says, relieved when it comes out clear and steady. 

They stare at each other for a moment longer and then Jaemin turns to his crew, still standing by him, silent statues guarding their captain’s back.

Well, what are you waiting for?” Jaemin asks, ramming the knife point first into the table where it trembles, the steel wavering in the force of the blow. “Let’s move.”

🌊

Life aboard the _Siren’s Song_ is strange. Renjun settles in with an unease that claws around his shoulders like a vulture, and remains there from the moment he wakes up till the moment he lays back in his bed, the walls of his cabin closing around him with every passing breath. 

Jeno is friendly and at first Renjun is wary of it, far too used to having men’s attention on him for unsavoury means, but as days pass and the rest of the crew continue holding him at arm’s length, Renjun sinks into Jeno’s easy friendship with a sense of relief that would be strange if he examined it for too long. 

They are, all of them, quite the characters. Mark remains constantly angry and tense and Renjun wonders where he gets the energy from. Jisung is quiet and observant and Renjun often looks up from whatever he’s doing to find Jisung on some high perch, silently watching him. It would be unnerving if Jisung also wasn’t one of the most adorable creatures Renjun had ever laid eyes on. 

Chenle _hates_ him. Renjun isn't surprised, but only because he’d thought Chenle was like that all the time, and it was just the bond of piracy or some other similar nonsense that kept the whole crew tolerant of him. Instead, Chenle was bright, eyes crinkled up into half moons and had a laugh that carried across the broad ship, tinkling and happy. Renjun had yet to decide if he should do something about or just let it go because he was hardly to remain aboard for long and the less energy expended, the better. 

Jaemin Na was the most confusing out of the whole chaotic mess. He never got involved in the crew’s arguments and they didn’t approach him with them either. Jaemin was quiet and introspective and seldom displayed the kind of emotions he’d shown on the first day Renjun boarded. And Renjun would find him staring out at the sea, twisting the rose quartz ring around and around on his finger, lost in thought.

How strange he was, for a man so feared. Strange and silent.

🌊

“Are these your cats?” Renjun asks one day when they’re on deck, curled up by the back of the ship, sitting directly opposite the wheel. Jeno had taken it upon himself to tell Renjun whatever tidbits he remembered about their ship whenever Renjun joined him on board. He was remarkably easy to find given that a ship meant for a hundred people held only six, and that Jeno was usually followed by the two cats that lived alongside the crew. 

Jeno grins at him, absentmindedly stroking through the black cat's hair. “Jaemin got them for me, but they like us all equally.” Clearly a lie as both cats were curled around his thighs right now.

Renjun sits down next with caution, wary as the tawny cat cracks one golden eye open to stare at him before it closes it again. “Do they have names?” 

Jeno hums in affirmation. “This is Whiskey,” he indicates the tawny cat. “And this is Rum.” The black cat. 

“Appropriate,” Renjun snorts and Jeno lets out a soft laugh in agreement. Renjun looks up across the ship to lock gazes with Chenle, whose smile fades the moment their eyes meet. He narrows his gaze at the pair before turning deliberately around, giving Jisung his full attention. Renjun raises an eyebrow, contemplating. There _had_ to be another reason he was the sole target of Chenle’s vitriol. No one else seemed as violently opposed to Renjun’s presence aboard the _Song_. 

“So is this it?” Renjun asks, hesitantly holding out a hand to stroke Whiskey’s head. When the cat makes no move against it, he takes it as permission and gently runs his hand over the warm fur. “You just sail around forever? Don’t you get sick of each other?”

Jeno laughs louder. “We do sometimes,” he admits, gaze wandering to the opposite end of the ship where Jaemin is perched atop the figurehead, clearly unafraid at the speed the _Song_ was cutting through the dark waters, the waves sluicing threateningly against the side of the ship before being swallowed up by the ocean below. “But frankly we’re used to it. We know when to leave each other alone, when to push, when to drop anchor and separate for a few days. It comes with the territory.”

“How long have you been together?” Renjun asks. Truth be told, the _Song_ hadn’t popped up on his radar until about two years ago, when it had disappeared only to be reborn as something completely new, different and a thousand times deadlier. There was no telling how long it had been around, traversing the oceans.

Jeno hums, tilting his head up to the sky, thinking. “Oh, about seven years?” He says thoughtfully. “Jisung joined about a half a year later and Chenle and Mark another six months after.” He raises his eyebrows in surprise at his own words. “It _has_ been a while.”

Renjun considers this. Seven years together. At this point they could be considered more family than simply crew members. “And…” He trails off trying to remember the name Chenle had blurted out. “Hyuck?” 

“Donghyuck.” Jeno nods with a sigh. “Oh, he came on much, _much_ later.” Jeno trails off, lost in thought and Renjun doesn’t press him. He’s already got more than he expected, but that might have just been a product of Jeno’s friendliness - and other not so platonic feelings toward Renjun - and he doubts the rest of the crew would be as forthcoming. 

Across the ship, Jaemin tips his head back to the sky, the sunlight giving his pink hair a golden tinge. He doesn't look like someone who committed numerous atrocities in the search of a lost man, but as Renjun was very quickly learning, first impressions, especially aboard the _Song_ , were far from the truth. 

🌊

The course they’re charting is a long one. Tortuga, for good reason, is as far away from the mainland as it could conceivably be and Jaemin’s goal is to sail for as long as possible before they have to stop for supplies. It means a lot of time spent on deck, watching the sea pass by them in an endless curtain of shimmering blues. 

That doesn’t mean they skimp on meals however, for which Renjun is grateful. Apparently if you’re a famous pirate crew, you tend to eat like it. The food is filling and satisfying, as much as salted and preserved food can be, and Renjun exits the kitchen, sliding past the food stocks back up the stairs to the main deck. 

However, when he makes to pass the last level to where the crew’s sleeping quarters are located, a voice stops him in his tracks. 

“ _-stop_ being so hostile.”

A scoff. “Why do you care, Jeno?”

Renjun slowly lifts his foot off the stair, and moves closer to the voices, hiding behind a pillar when he sees who it is. Jeno has his hand wrapped around Chenle’s wrist, holding him there and Chenle’s whole body is tensed, his expression displeased. 

Jeno takes a step forward. “I care because this is our only chance to get to Hyuck, and you’re going to drive him away.”

Chenle laughs but there’s nothing nice about it, nothing that tinkles or lifts the spirits. “You only want to me play nice because you want to fuck him,” he says and Jeno's shock is clear in how he gapes. “I’m not going to trust someone just because you’re too blind to see the truth and the captain is too desperate to consider any other options.”

Renjun wonders at the logic behind Jeno having been chosen as the First Mate. On ships, usually the First Mate handled the crew and day to day operations while the Captain mainly focused on the next destination and the ship. If this is how Jeno handles issues with his crew, how did anything ever get solved? 

“But there aren’t any other options,” Jeno hisses, desperate. “You tell me if we’ve found _anything_ in these last two years. All we’ve done is watch him get crazier and more desperate and-” 

“Oh please,” Chenle's voice is full of venom. “You’re so _blind_ , Jeno.” 

Silence. Renjun shifts a little to get a better view. 

“What are you talking about?” Jeno’s tone transforms from leniency to something harder and Renjun visibly _sees_ Chenle falter.

He swallows and takes a step back, trying to pull his wrist out of Jeno’s grip. “It’s nothing-”

“Tell me.”

Chenle steps closer and Renjun has to strain to hear his next words. “You don’t want to hear it, you’ll just think I’m being-”

Steel in Jeno’s voice. “ _Tell_ me.”

Chenle lets out an audible breath. “Don’t you think it’s funny how the exact same thing is happening all over again? How the captain was just an enthralled as you were when we brought a new person on board? But this time the stakes are even _higher_ and god, Jeno, I don’t want to see you hurt at the end of it.” His voice shifts into something lower, more urgent and Renjun is so confused by the two of them. How many emotions could a pair of humans cycle through in a matter of minutes? “You _can’t_ be hurt. If we fail, you’re going to have to hold him back and Jones’ below he’s _only_ going to get worse, and Mark and Jisung won’t stop him and he won’t listen to me. That leaves you. _Only_ you. And you can’t do that if some strange mermaid breaks your heart.”

There’s a long moment of quiet and Renjun peeks his head further out. Jeno takes a breath and then lets it out slowly, as if taking the time to gather his thoughts. 

“Do you really have such little faith in me?” He asks quietly. “That I would fall for the first pretty face I’ve seen and lose sight of my responsibilities so quickly?”

Chenle’s smile is so bitter it hurts Renjun just to look at it, despite having no stakes in the wellbeing of his emotions at all. “It’s just a warning, Jeno.” He pulls his wrist out of Jeno’s hold, but any harshness from the motion is belied by Chenle’s hand coming up to smooth Jeno’s ivory hair back. It lingers by his cheek before retreating entirely. Chenle’s smile twists into something a little cruel, a little sad, something that looks entirely out of place on his usually bright face. “We both know how easily you can be swayed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short one this time around but the next chapter promises much action >.<


	5. don't care if he's guilty, don't care if he's not; he's good and he's bad and he's all that i've got

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two conversations and a surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a very long time coming! im so excited to finally publish it. as a warning there is some violence at the end (peep the tag change) but it's not explicitly described. 
> 
> this chapter only exists because of leo’s guiding hand, she’s truly the best. <333
> 
> enjoy!

_**After** _

Jisung wakes with a sense of foreboding clawing down his throat.

He lays there staring at the wooden ceiling of the ship, taking one slow breath after another, trying to calm the sudden frantic beating of his heart. Beside him, Chenle is still in a deep sleep and when Jisung casts a glance down the sleeping quarters, he finds all of his crew in a similar state, their breaths rising and falling in tandem.

Then the ship above him creaks and Jisung’s eyes flick upwards, hand curling around the knife underneath his pillow.

Logically, he knows it’s probably just Jaemin wandering about after another sleepless night, but even after years of relative safety, Jisung cannot shake the instinct of always being wary that something, _anything,_ could go wrong at any second.

When he quietly creeps upstairs, ready to nudge a stubborn Jaemin back to bed, he’s surprised to instead find Renjun, sitting by the stairs that lead up to the higher deck where the wheel sits, his head tipped back to face the full moon.

“What are you doing awake?” Renjun asks, not looking away and Jisung startles so badly he nearly drops his knife.

Jisung considers him for a beat, then carefully slides the knife back into his trousers and pads across the deck, avoiding the creakiest planks of wood as he joins Renjun on the stairs

“I heard noises,” he whispers, looking up at the sky as well. The stars shimmer in the deep blue of the night and Jisung knows that if he looks over the side of the ship, he’ll see the water reflecting that beauty, a million tiny lights spread out on a sapphire blanket.

Renjun hums. “I had trouble sleeping.” He opens his mouth as if to say more, then casts a look at Jisung and hesitates. Jisung stays quiet. He's often found that silence is a much better extractor of the truth than force - a lesson that Jaemin still had to learn. Renjun's lips twist wryly. "It's not easy to fall asleep at night under the knowledge that you might be holding down the pin on a bomb that could very well go off at any moment."

There's no doubt as to who he's talking about.

"You're right," Jisung says, looking out across the deck. Rum scampers up the stairs and disappears down the corner where the captain's cabin lays. "You could be making it much worse, you know. I know he seems bad now but you-" he breaks off, trying to gather his thoughts. It's a complicated situation, and he doesn't know how much to tell Renjun, how much to keep hidden. He coughs. "You have no idea what he was like before.”

Renjun snorts. “I heard the rumours.”

“Yes." Jisung says slowly, contemplating his next words. "But that’s all they were. Rumours. Words-" he huffs a laugh, thoughts flickering through the memories at high speed, like a wind blowing leaves up into a dizzying tornado. "Just words wouldn't be enough to describe what- what happened."

Renjun seems to take this in gradually before glancing at Jisung through the corner of his eyes. "Then why do you stay?"

Jisung blinks, surprised. "What?"

"Why do you stay?" Renjun presses. "If he's horrible now, if he was even worse back then - after Donghyuck-" Jisung flinches at the name. They hadn't spoken of Donghyuck in years, had never even broached the subject when Jaemin was around for fear of making him explode - or worse, implode upon himself - and Jisung had almost forgotten what his name sounded like, when spoken aloud. 

Renjun continues, unfettered. "Why do you stay with him? You seem plenty smart enough to realise that things could be far, far worse. If they haven't already gotten that bad." There doesn't seem to be any malice in his tone, just pure practicality, simple curiosity and it makes Jisung want to talk more to him. To see just how many layers this merman held. To tell him what he knows and to see how Renjun will react; if he would jump off the ship and swim to safety or if he would stay, and keep an eye out for the bomb now - hopefully - fast asleep in his quarters.

Jisung thinks about it. Why wouldn't he leave? There were plenty of reasons. The least of which was his loyalty to Jaemin. "You have to understand," he says slowly, quietly. "Jaemin wasn't like this when I met him."

He thinks of years and years ago, of his much younger self, scared out of his mind, locked starving and bleeding in a prison cell with men who were just waiting for him to fall asleep to attack. He thinks of the days of numbness that had spread where he'd refused to sleep, too frightened of what might happen if he let himself slip. All of Jisung's memories of that time were faded, dark and shadowy at the edges, as if time and trauma had blurred them too much; as if Jisung's own mind had recognised the terror it caused him and had erased it from his memory. But the strongest memory Jisung has of those days, the one that still shines out through the dark, was Jaemin.

He remembers the day Jeno had been caught and thrown into the same cell Jisung had been in, remembers the laughingly playful face of Na Jaemin as he'd blown up the prison cell, as he'd grabbed Jeno and started to make his way out. Remembers the way Jaemin had paused, had turned to Jisung and held out his hand and, in a tone so soft it clashed with the previously fierce look on his face, had asked, "Would you like to run away with me?"

And Jisung remembers, standing, unsteady from days of muscles stiffened in terror, and taking Jaemin's hand in his own. Remembers thinking that if he were to die, it would be better to do so in the hands of pretty stranger than the ever tightening four walls of a prison cell.

But Jaemin hadn't killed him. Hadn't hurt him. Had only ever touched him to clean up his wounds, with a gaze so frightening, Jisung hid in the barracks of the ship for a week, afraid that Jaemin would beat him for showing weakness. Looking back on it now, it was absurd to assume that Jaemin would ever hurt him. But Jisung then had not known any better.

Renjun is still watching him, waiting patiently for his next words and Jisung straightens, shaking away the old ropes of his dark past, letting them slither back to the depths of his mind to try and attack him another day.

"Jaemin, when I met him, was - well he wasn't a good man. Not in the sense you're thinking. He wasn't morally upright or anything - but he was _good_." Jisung twists his fingers together. "He saved me," he says gingerly. "He looked a terrified boy locked in a cell and took him away without any expectation of reciprocity. I owe him everything."

"You're staying out of guilt?" There's disbelief in Renjun's voice. "Or some sort of twisted gratitude?"

"I'm staying out of loyalty," Jisung corrects. He's not annoyed at Renjun's confusion, it's certainly warranted because Jisung's not doing a good enough job of explaining things. "Na the Mad didn't exist in the sense that he does today," Jisung starts again. He turns to Renjun. "The red sea he leaves behind, the thousand bodies he's created, none of that was true before- before Donghyuck." It feels odd to say his name. As if Jisung were talking about someone long dead, a memory, a ghost that still lingered around their ship, waiting and whispering, aching for someone to acknowledge it. As if Jisung hadn't adored Donghyuck with every ounce of his heart. As if it hadn't hurt him just as much as it had the rest of them when Donghyuck-

Jisung clears his throat, pulling himself together. "Jaemin saved every one of us. I can't speak for the others, and I won't. But I can tell you that not a single one of us would be alive right now if it wasn't for him and this ship." He thinks of Mark, bloodthirsty and unhinged, of Chenle, bright and glimmering, like a flame, and just as dangerous. Of Jeno. Steadfastly loyal to his captain. Of himself. Jisung closes his eyes. “It’s not gratitude or debt, it’s loyalty.” And Jaemin paid them the same respect. Always had and always would. 

"So when did Na the Mad change?" Renjun questions delicately. The sails flutter as if recognition of the name, of the power it held, and Jisung takes a shaky breath. It’s like they’re weaving a story - for only the two of them, slowly and carefully piecing together the parts, the sound of the wind, the creaking of the ship, all providing the background melody. 

"I'm sure you can guess," he says instead of explaining. He doesn't think he could handle it, truly. To tell Renjun what happened two years ago - for Jaemin to turn as he did. "Losing Donghyuck it- it wasn't good for him. I don't think... I don't think any of us realised the power he held over Jaemin until- until he was gone."

An understatement to say the least. If Jisung had thought Jaemin was a dangerous force when they'd first met, it was nothing compared to what Jaemin had become once Donghyuck slipped through his fingers.

"I see." There seems to be a world of meaning packed into those two words. Renjun's shining under the moonlight, eyes glittering hard and dark, like a sapphire waiting to be found, to be held with two careful hands. 

Jisung doesn't understand that kind of love to be honest - he gets Jaemin's obsession a little bit, he gets that Donghyuck had been an important person and that Jaemin had loved him just as much - more than - he’d loved his own crew. But he doesn’t get that drive behind it. Jaemin, under question from a curious Jisung, had once described his want for Donghyuck, his need, like a claw hooked under his collarbone, yanking him forward, relentless, pulling and pulling so hard it felt like Jaemin's heart would give out under the ache, until he reached Donghyuck's arms once again. Jisung had listened carefully to every word and had absorbed it, but he didn't - and still doesn't - understand it.

He understands _why_ Jeno might be so enthralled by Renjun, even to the point of hurting Chenle - an action so thoughtless, Jisung would have resorted to the violence he never chose to touch, if Jeno hadn't been part of his crew, closer than his long gone family. Renjun is mesmerizing in a way normal humans like the crew of the _Song_ aren't, in a way that Donghyuck was. He understands why Jeno's - and Mark's - eyes follow him around. But he doesn't understand the desire behind them.

Maybe it's because of his youth. Maybe his inexperience. But Jisung doesn't think it's either. He doesn't think he'll ever feel that way about someone. And for now, he's more than okay with that.

Renjun says something, and Jisung too lost in his own thoughts, doesn't hear it. "Hmm?" He asks, dragging himself to the present. "What did you say?"

Renjun's eyes are twin lights in the dim night. Twin lighthouses, but Jisung gets the feeling that ships would drown under their direction rather than find safety. "He's changed though. What makes you so sure he won't just revert back to his old self if we fail?"

 _If we fail_. Jisung's blood runs cold. He, foolishly, _stupidly,_ hadn't considered what might have happened if they actually failed. Jaemin had kept up a good front, but Jisung was able to read through him - for better or worse - and knows that whatever numbness Jaemin had covered himself with, it had all slid back to reveal an ugly, gaping wound with Donghyuck's name etched on it when Renjun had given him the tiny glimmer of hope he’d been craving, starving, searching years for. 

"If we fail," Jisung echoes quietly through numb lips.

"He'll kill me." It's said so frankly, Jisung startles. Renjun's eyebrow is raised at a plank of wood, unmoving. Out of the dark, Rum crawls around the corner, golden eyes staring at them. Jisung is abruptly, jarringly, reminded of Donghyuck.

"Jeno wouldn't let that happen," Jisung says, not mentioning himself. He's unsure of how he would react if tomorrow, Jaemin decided to turn his knife on Renjun. He wouldn’t be happy about it, but his interest in Jaemin’s wellbeing lies far above that of a total stranger’s. It's true though - Jeno wouldn't let Jaemin carry out his threat, but that didn't mean it couldn't happen anyway. If Jeno restrained Jaemin, Mark remained and there was no one more loyal to Jaemin than Mark Lee.

"But what will you do then?" Renjun asks.

It strikes Jisung as strange that Renjun cares so much about Jisung's well being,but he brushes past it. He's chosen to reveal so much already, what was one more secret? 

"We won't fail." It's such a foolhardy thing to say but Jisung states it anyway. Because he has to say it out loud to make himself believe it, to make it his truth. "We won't fail. He's changed but we'll get him back. The Jaemin I know is still in there somewhere and _when_ we find Donghyuck, we'll get all of him back."

Perhaps Renjun is too kind, perhaps Jisung has spilled too much of himself into this night, perhaps there are too many secrets between them now. Whatever the reason, Jisung is grateful Renjun doesn't call him out when his voice shakes.

They'll get Donghyuck back and Jaemin will finally emerge from his hard shell he'd been hiding behind these last two years.

They'll get Donghyuck back and Jaemin will be happy again. Jisung will make sure of it.

🌊

Jisung is very rarely wrong.

It's a point of pride for him. He's the watcher in their little motley crew, the one that stays back - stays up _high -_ the one that observes and notes down everything. The one that knows. And when Jisung finally puts together all his observations together, when takes all his tidbits and comes to make a conclusion about a person, he is very, _very_ rarely wrong.

Chenle's hands snap the stick and feather toy they'd been teasing Whiskey with all evening in half. Jisung glances up at him and then follows his angry gaze to where Jeno and Renjun sit at the deck table, laughing over a book together.

"Stop it," Jisung murmurs, taking the stick away from him. Whiskey follows his movement with narrowed eyes and then lunges, leaping onto Jisung's thighs, and pinning the feather down against his hip, claws digging into his skin. " _Ow,_ Whiskey, _stop_ _it_." The cat meows reproachfully up at him, and Jisung lets the stick dangle on the floor, watching in faint amusement as Whiskey bunches up his tiny body and lunges for it.

"He's a fool," Chenle seethes, still glaring at Jeno. "He's being taken in and he doesn't even realise it."

"I think he realises plenty," Jisung tells him. "I don't see how he could ignore it after you practically told him he was a whore that jumped to whoever batted their eyelashes at him prettily."

Chenle makes a face, glancing at Jisung. "I didn't say it like that," he mumbles but it's muted. Chenle had meant the words to hurt and hurt they did. Jeno, for all his posturing, for all the power his position granted him, had a soft heart and Chenle had pierced right through it with his cruelty.

"Well, now you've driven him away with your jealousy," Jisung points out. It's not true, but it's fun to watch Chenle simmer in his misplaced anger. "So I'm not sure what that little display of righteousness over the Captain's state of mind was about."

Chenle narrows his eyes at him. "Stop listening in on conversations that have nothing to do with you."

Jisung narrows his eyes right back. "Stop having conversations so loudly then."

They glare at each other before Chenle breaks it, frown falling off his face. He scoots closer to Jisung, laying his head on his shoulder, their miniature fight discarded in an instant. 

"I know it's stupid," he sighs. "But I don't want-" his breath hitches and Jisung briefly reconsiders his policy on non violence. "Jones' below, I _hate_ this. I sound like a jilted fishwife."

"You're perfectly within your rights to," Jisung soothes. "But I don't think you have anything to worry about."

Chenle pauses and pulls away from Jisung's shoulder. "And you know that for certain do you?" He asks, eyes narrowed.

Jisung opens his mouth.

🌊

Three days ago had found Jisung up on the crow's nest as per usual, and would remain as long as there was a stranger aboard the ship; half asleep, while watching the stars twinkle faintly ahead.

Jisung's just about let himself drift off when he picks up on conversation below. He sits up straight, perking his ears up but when no words can be clearly heard, he peeks his head over the top of the basket.

Renjun stands by the entrance to the cabins, another figure in front of him, too dark for Jisung to make out. Didn't he ever sleep? Jisung wondered, gazing down at Renjun. He slides out of the nest, carefully making his way down the ladder, not making a sound as he does so. Jisung has been up and down this ladder so many times he could clamber down with his eyes closed and not make a sound or fall. He quietly hops from the ladder to the main mast, balancing on the tips of his toes. The main mast leads right over where Renjun is standing and... Mark?

Jisung tips his head in surprise, dropping down to sit on the mast, leaning as far down as he dared to hear better. It turns out he doesn't have to bother because Renjun speaks in a clear tone - loud enough for any bystanders to hear. It was an unfortunate habit, one Jisung had learned a long time ago to get rid of.

"What are you doing up?"

"I had questions for you." Mark's voice.

Renjun snorts. "It seems many people do. Do you all not follow the word of your captain? How ever have you lasted so long?"

Mark isn't deterred by his questions. "It is because we are so suspicious of strangers that we have lasted for so long," he says coolly. "We do not just invite anyone aboard in foolhardy hopes and quests that won't lead anywhere."

Renjun tilts his head. "Does your captain know you're so disobedient?"

Mark snorts this time and even Jisung has to hide a smirk. It was a true sign of a stranger aboard the _Song,_ for them to assume that Mark held anything but doglike obedience towards Jaemin. 

"We're not here to talk about _my_ captain," he says, leaning his elbow on the side of the ship and looking at Renjun. "We're here to talk about why you've suddenly decided to gallivant your way onto our ship and fill the captain's head with false fantasies."

"It isn't false," Renjun retorts, affronted. "My magic is true as are my words."

"Just claiming your words are true doesn't make them so." Mark steps closer and Renjun stares up at him. Jisung's mildly impressed; he's seen far stronger men quail under that gaze.

"You're different." It's a complete change in conversation. Jisung wouldn't have let himself be swayed by the stark statement but Mark pounces on it, tension racketing up in his body so fast, Jisung can see his back muscles shift under his loose shirt.

"What are you talking about?"

Renjun frowns, thinking. "I remember seeing you at the inn, the night before we met, do you remember?"

There's a silence and Jisung can almost picture, with perfect clarity, the angry confusion that crawls over Mark's face. "Of course I do," Mark says roughly. "You stuck your nose into business that wasn't yours. Is that a habit of yours, by the way? Or is it just reserved for pirates?"

Renjun's smile is a knife, glinting in the dark. "Only those pirates I find interesting. But that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about you."

"And what about me?"

Renjun takes a step closer.

And Jisung remembers a story Chenle had once told him - of when he used to study across the sea, where the Royal Navy was originally from. He'd told Jisung of the day his school took him to the zoo - a place where animals from all over the world, lions and tigers and bears, were held in captivity. Jisung had only ever seen a tiger once, years and years ago, when he’d snuck aboard a merchant ship to steal some food and get passage to another island, far, far away from his home. The hull had been dark, easy enough for a small boy to slip in between the shadows, hiding at the back, easy enough to be lost. He'd seen the tiger then, eyes glowing, even in the dark, mouth pulled back to reveal a tremendous snarl, it's teeth as large as Jisung's forearm.

Chenle had described the tiger he'd seen in the same way. With muscles so defined you could see them shift as it walked, restlessly back and forth behind thinly constructed wooden bars.

"You could see the danger in his eyes," Chenle told him, hushed though there was no reason to be. "You could see he was ready to kill without even having to look at him."

That tiger - both of them, now melded into one monstrous being in Jisung's mind - was how he regarded Mark. Everyone they'd ever met, the crew as well, described Mark as a feral monster, a dog, barely held at Jaemin's side with sheer power alone, but Jisung privately thought they were all wrong. Mark Lee was no free beast, he was a caged one, trembling all over with the chance to be let free.

That's what Jisung thought of now, as Renjun moves closer with no regard to his safety. Mark's arm clenches so hard around the side of the ship, Jisung's afraid he's going to break his hand trying to crush the wood. Was it the mermaid in Renjun that made Mark react to him like this? Was it that Mark perceived him as a threat?

"You're so different," Renjun tells him, a smirk curling around his mouth. He seems to enjoy pushing all the buttons he possibly can, waiting and waiting to see which would explode first. "You act so bawdy on shore but the moment you set foot on this ship, you act so upright, like such a good little guard dog."

"My behaviour has nothing to do with this," Mark snaps.

The smirk widens. "Sure," Renjun allows. "You want to know why I'm here and I've already told you. You don't believe me and that's not my problem. So I suppose we're at a stalemate." He steps even closer and for some reason, Jisung feels a blush crawl across his cheeks. He doesn't think he should be watching this, but they're not doing anything indecorous and the need to listen to what Renjun's saying far outweighs Jisung's proclivities. "But I'd like to know what lies under that rough exterior, I'm curious. Aren't you?"

"About you?" Mark grunts. He makes no move to back away however, only tips his head down to meet Renjun's gaze. "Hardly. I'm just waiting for the day you slip up and I get the pleasure of killing you."

“Ah but you don’t look at me like that, Mark Lee,” Renjun informs him. “You look like you want to eat me.”

“Easy enough to do when one hates a person.”

The smirk transforms into a pleased smile and Renjun pats Mark's cheek gently with a steady hand. Mark stiffens and Jisung gapes. He can't remember the last time someone dared to touch Mark. 

"Well you know what they say, dog," Renjun whispers, fire in his eyes. "There's a very fine line between love and hatred. Will you be able to put aside your prejudice against me to find out which side you land on?"

🌊

"Jisung?" Chenle pokes him again. "What do you know?"

Jisung tears his eyes away from Renjun, turning back to Chenle. "Nothing Im telling you," he says easily, cutting through Chenle's protests. "But I will tell you, you have nothing to worry about. Not with Jeno. Or Renjun."

Chenle's eyes narrow. "Don't I?"

Jisung thinks of the way Mark had slid his own hand up to remove Renjun's hand from his cheek, the touch delicate despite the tension thrumming through Mark's whole body. Thinks of the way Renjun had stepped back, of the way Mark had followed, pinning his hand down against the railing and had whispered, so quietly, Jisung had barely been able to make it out. "I don't fuck liars," before letting go and disappearing into the dark.

"No," Jisung says, eyes flicking to where Mark had just emerged from below deck, mouth set into a forever tense line. "I don't think you do."

And Jisung was, after all, rarely wrong.

🌊

When Jisung wakes, he knows it's going to be a bad day. There are rarely days like this - when he's on board anyway - when he wakes a dark cloud surrounding his heart. It's not apparent, not at first anyway. The morning passes quietly, if slowly. The wind is low and the ship seems less inclined to cut through the waters at the dizzying rate she had been carrying on with for the last few weeks. Jaemin isn't outwardly bothered by it but Jisung catches him twisting the rose quartz ring around his finger multiple times, a strange look on his face as he does so.

The cloud only grows as they inch towards the afternoon. They're nearing the part of their journey that will take them through the Southern Islands - a patch of twenty or so small islands, connected by strips of sea hardly wide enough to hold a fleet of the Royal Navy. They were full of life, teeming with citizens loyal to the crown and unfriendly to most pirates. It hardly needed to be said what their reactions would be to the most notorious pirate ship in the present day. Jaemin's expression only gets darker as they inch closer to the islands.

"Is there no way for us to go around?" Jisung asks Renjun quietly.

Renjun startles before looking straight up at Jisung, perched above him on the ladder leading up to the crow's nest. "Must you always be so high up?" Renjun snaps, flushing at the surprise evident on his face.

Jisung grins, taking no offense. He takes pride in his abilities. It's not his fault that people rarely remembered to look up. "It's comforting," he says. "Can we? Go around?"

Renjun's nose scrunches up as he considers the questions. He walks away from Jisung, over to the deck table where the map sat and Jisung follows, landing lightly on his toes to peer over Renjun's shoulder.

"Not really," Renjun mutters, tracing the black line burnt into the parchment. It glows a faint gold at his touch. Renjun glances through his hair at Jaemin, standing by the wheel, looking straight back at them, his gaze unreadable. Renjun straightens, saying louder, "We can't go around, not if we don't want to lose a couple weeks at the very least."

It's a smart thing to do. By telling Jaemin his thoughts even when not asked, Renjun's acknowledging Jaemin's role aboard the ship, acknowledging his power as Captain. A very smart thing to do. Jisung gazes at Renjun, considering. Had he done the right thing by telling Renjun about Jaemin's past?

Jaemin takes in his words, lips pursing. "We don't go around," he says. He doesn't raise his voice but all the crew stop in their tracks to listen. "We push through. And if they want a fight, we'll give them one."

"Wise words," Renjun mutters, dropping his head back to the map. "Fight every battle there is to fight, and where does that leave you? Not closer to what you're looking for."

"We are pirates," Jisung reminds him. "If you were looking for morally upright men you shouldn't have come aboard the _Song_."

Renjun straightens, looking at him. "I'm beginning to learn that," he says wearily and even the faint call of looming disaster that had started tightening around Jisung's chest isn't enough to stop the laugh that bubbles out of him.

🌊

Jisung's instincts are rarely wrong.

So when Chenle slams open the doors in the deck to the bottom of the ship, expression stormy, holding a man by the scruff of his neck, the dread that had been filling up in Jisung's chest all day finally explodes.

There's silence on the deck as Chenle throws the man down, expression dark. "Stowaway," he spits. None of them bother to take their weapons out as the man scrambles backwards, away from Chenle, eyes wide, like a terrified horse, ready to bolt. Though there's nowhere to bolt to; they're in the middle of the ocean, a wide expanse of blue sea stretching out as far as the eye could see.

"I didn't know!" The man cries, and when he catches sight of Jaemin descending down the stairs, expression dark, he looks even more terrified. "Heavens above, I didn't know it was this ship, I counted wrong!"

Chenle's jaw tightens. "He's been here since Myler," he says, referring to the island they'd stopped off at a fortnight ago to restock supplies.

"How did no one notice?" Jaemin asks, voice tight. "Don't you check the food stocks?"

"He wasn't there," Chenle says, but his tone lightens a bit, a small deference to Jaemin's anger. "He was in the brig. Smart to hide there, no one would have found him for days."

"What were _you_ doing in the brig?" Jeno asks and Chenle doesn't even look at him. 

"Is that important right now?"

Jaemin comes to a stop in front of the man and kneels down to his eye levels. "What are you doing on my ship?" He inquires, deadly quiet. "I don't remember giving a sniveling rat like you permission aboard."

"Forgive me," the man gasps, trying to back away but before he can even move an inch, Jaemin's hand shoots out and grabs him by the collar, pinning him to where he sat. "I - I didn't mean to get on this ship! I would never! There- there was a merchant ship beside yours, Sir, I did- I didn't-"

"Another ship I warrant you didn't have permission to board," Jaemin cuts across his gasping coldly. "What are you trying to escape? Hmm?"

Jisung sees the tilt of Jaemin's head, sees the darkness in his eyes, sees the way his hand clenches around the shirt clutched in his hands and _knows_ , with a deep certainty that this will not end well. Jaemin was not in a good mood to spare anyone's life, let alone that of a stowaway that had been aboard the _Song_ for weeks.

When the man doesn't answer, Jaemin shrugs and lets him go. "That's fine," he says easily, standing. "You don't have to tell me. Mark." And with the all the power of a caged beast, Mark hauls the man up by the back of his shirt, glowering at him.

"No- no, wait," the man gasps, looking from Mark's free hand, holding a knife - one of his favourites, Jisung knew, a beautiful steel inlaid with rubies, pretty and practical - back to Jaemin standing with a bored look on his face. "No - I-"

"You'll talk eventually," Mark says deliberately and he tilts the knife up to the man's chin, tracing cold steel against a sagging jaw. "They all do."

It's enough of a threat that the man pales, all the blood rushing from his pallid face. "I'm in debt!" He cries, struggling away from Mark's steel grip. "I- Debtors were after me, my family. I had to leave or they would kill me! Forgive me, Sir. I would have never laid a hair upon your ship had I known-"

"A family," Jisung says, the words falling unbidden from his lips. "You had a family? And you left them behind?"

Jaemin's eyes flick to him. His expression doesn't change but his gaze softens, before rage fills them again. "Answer him," he says, not looking at the man.

"I did," the man gasps, tears falling from his cheeks. Pathetic. "I did - I did what I had to do for my soul - my _life_ -"

"Your soul is as black as tar the moment you decided to abandon your family," Jisung spits, shaking. He can't think, can't do anything but tremble and speak. How horrid must a mind be? To abandon those it loved for self preservation. Jisung feels sick. "What do you think will happen to them when your debtors come to collect? Do you think they will leave your wife unsullied? Your children spared?"

"Jisung-" Jeno starts, worry in his voice but Jaemin cuts across him.

"A very good question," he says, icy. "What will you do if you go back and discover the dead bodies of your family hanging from the gallows as a warning?"

The man sputters and chokes but no real words falls from his blubbering lips. It's clear that he never planned to go back, free to let his family rot behind. Disgust rises up in Jisung's throat, threatening to consume him and he looks away.

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. "No answer?" He nods at Mark who immediately lets go, stepping back. "Well then, I have nothing else to say to you. You may be on your way, you _disgusting,_ pathetic excuse for a human being."

The man freezes, all noises ceasing. "Be- be on my way?" He asks uncertainly. There's intelligence in those slimy eyes, sneaky and snivelling. He thinks he is safe - that Jaemin will not harm him any longer. "We're - we're in the middle of the ocean."

"A fact you should have thought of before boarding any ship your heart so pleased," Jaemin snaps, shedding his faux politeness in an instant. "Get off my ship, now."

The man casts a look over the railing, his already white face paling even more when catching sight of the dark water below. "I - I - can I not stay f- for even a day, Sir I-"

Jaemin's patience snaps and his mouth twists into a furious snarl. Jisung turns away as soon as he moves, knowing what was about to happen before it does.

"Jisung, what-" Renjun starts, hand coming up to catch him-

The bang of a gun cuts him off.

Silence fills the deck. No one moves.

Jisung closes his eyes, bracing himself against the opposite railing.

"Filth should be treated as such," Jaemin says coolly and when Jisung finds it in himself to turn around, he sees the man laying flat on his back, a neat hole in his head, blood as red as the rubies in Mark's knife, spreading slowly across the deck. Jaemin takes a breath, rolling his shoulders back. "Clean that up before it gets in the wood," he tosses over his shoulder as he walks back to his quarters. "Jisung, come with me."

Renjun lets out a slow breath. "Well, I suppose you were right."

Jisung tears his eyes away from the blood. "What are you talking about?" He asks slowly, numbly, the words seeming to come from a mile away.

Renjun gives no answer, eyes fixed on where Jaemin had turned the corner. "He's going to pay for that you know. There's always an equilibrium - always a pendulum, always a scale that stays in balance. And Jaemin's sins are tipping them too far down."

Jaemin's sins. Oh, if only Renjun knew. If only he knew how many of Jaemin's sins ran red with blood. There wouldn't be an ocean in the world left blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well,, that ended with a Bang


	6. want me to love you in moderation. do i look moderate to you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a past told and a future taking shape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the struggle I had with this chapter,, you would not believe. as always, all my love and eternal thanks to leo who somehow still hasn't blocked me despite my constant badgering at her.

_**Before** _

Once upon a time, there was a woman more beautiful than anyone could have imagined. Silver hair that cascaded in waves smoother than the calmest sea, eyes as gold as the newest medallions, and she lived on a distant island, far away from prying human eyes and greed.

She was a siren. A siren cast out from her home because of her nature - far too cruel for even her sisters to believe. And there she lived on that scraggy island, one good storm from being overwhelmed by the sea, in a part of the ocean no one dared sail upon.

There the woman stayed, for years, alone, wishing for a soul to wash up on shore, for a ship to pass by. But no one came. And there she lay, for years and years, singing for no one, singing to an empty place, singing for the souls she would never be able to kill.

Then, as fortune would have it, a raft floated to the island. It was broken in half, with the passenger barely alive upon it. The siren was a vicious lady, yes. She had killed more men than she could count and held no mercy in her cold heart, but when she looked upon this man, she could not summon it in herself to kill him.

With time, with care, the man grew to strength once more. The siren fed him, repaired his torn clothes as best she could, and cleaned his wounds until he could sit upright without her help, and until he could speak, words rough but grateful.

The siren never sang to him, not once. She had no reason to kill this man - despite her previous habits. The man never once touched her, never once treated her with anything but deference and despite all her reason, the siren's cold heart slowly began to melt.

The man told her stories of his life aboard his pirate ship, slowly and quietly, of his tyrannical captain, of the horrors and the wonders he'd seen travelling the world. And when the siren asked him, with a voice quiet and low so as to not throw the man under her spell, what he had done to receive such treatment, the man smiled a half smile at her, so charming the siren could not help her own in return, and had said words that the siren would never forget.

"Cruelty needs no reason, my lady."

Perhaps that was the turning point, though the siren fancied herself far above such easy tricks. From then on, the conversation flowed easier, like sweet wine neither of them had tasted in months, and the smiles came easier, flowering to their lips, the buds of love, slow and careful, began peeking their way out of the crevices in their hearts.

Love is strange. It eludes those who seek it most desperately and comes crashing like a tsunami upon those who would do anything to avoid it.

The siren found herself in such a predicament; after years of blocking her heart up in ice and devouring those who did her wrong - she, the most feared creature in the seas... She fell in love.

But creatures who are not meant for love struggle when they experience it. The siren hated herself for those emotions that rose up within her whenever she laid eyes upon the man, gentle and kind as he was. The siren fell into his arms and fell in love, and also fell into despair. For it went against every fiber of her being to lay with a man and not harm him.

However, whatever restraint the siren possessed vanished when it came to be known that she was to bear a child. The siren went mad - horrified at herself, horrified at her body for betraying her, horrified at her heart for acting so treacherously. She was content, _ready_ , to let the child die, for she was never meant to be a mother, not to one of her own and certainly even less to a bastard child born in an illicit tryst with a human, But the man held her by the hands and begged her to spare the child's life.

The siren wavered. Her mind rebelled. Her heart turned sick at the thought of bearing this child, of going against everything she had ever known.

But the man never once before requested anything of her. He had been nothing but gracious, nothing but good. And it was the only thing he'd ask of her, he said, pleading with her on his knees, _anything_ to let their child live.

Spare the child and he would not ask her to stay. Spare the child and he would let her leave.

It was almost certain to both of them that no matter the requests made, no matter the promises kept, the child would not survive in such a place. An island as this was meant to see life die, not born and flower. And so, both parents, one resigned in his grief, the other already grieving for what she was about to lose, waited for the day they both dreaded.

But fate, as it seemed, was not about to let such a child die.

In the middle of the night, the siren awoke, a calling in her heart, so strong she had no choice but to follow it, stumbling out onto the rocky beach, looking for a nameless thing. And in that night, a lost ship moored by their island, took two passengers aboard, with a third on its way, ready to make itself known to the world.

On the way back to the mainland, in the middle of a silent ocean, on a full moon, the siren bore the child she had so dreaded to see. 

In the next hour she vanished, leaving a haunting song flowing behind her, as smooth and silky as her silver hair.

The next day, the man took the child into his arms and bestowed his name upon him.

And in such circumstances, with one parent gone and the other half consumed in joy and half mourning a love he would never see again, Donghyuck Lee was born.

🌊

Donghyuck Lee’s trials, unfortunately, would not end with his birth. While a man who raised him well as he could, his father was perhaps considered _less_ good when he left Donghyuck in a tavern when he was ten years old and vanished into the night, unable to forget the haunting woman he'd so loved and even more so unable to bear the striking resemblance to her that his son was beginning to take on.

And so Lee Donghyuck, at age ten, was then taken in by a singer and a barkeep. They were well-meaning people, who did their best to raise a child whose origins and powers they knew nothing about. Donghyuck tried his best to obey them because he'd seen what happened to the orphans who took to stealing and ended up in prison for it. It was a cruel world and even more so for a child.

Donghyuck was twelve years old when he first discovered that his voice was different from others'.

He sang at the tavern for the very first time, young voice high and sweet. By the end of the song, he’d thrown every patron into a deep slumber, their hands tipped over and spilling beer onto the ground, a symphony of snores filling the air.

He was forbidden from singing ever again.

Of course, Donghyuck being who he was, he never listened. But he discovered other things as well. That if he smiled very sweetly and if his voice went a little higher and if he tapped into that strange iciness that always seemed to occupy his chest, when he spoke, people would listen. They would listen and they would _obey_.

It was a strange power for a child to discover, but Donghyuck knew to keep it to himself. He'd known from a very young age that he was not like other children - no other child had eyes like the long lost gold of Davy Jones, or silver hair that gleamed in the moonlight, and no other child could force someone into submission by simply speaking to them. Donghyuck sensed he was different and he learned to keep it all hidden under a thick layer of sweet lies, dripping with honey and filled with poison.

When Donghyuck was fifteen, his small village fell under a sickness and in weeks, every man, woman and child were on bed rest, coughing up dark fluid, their eyes red and lost as fever took control of their minds. Donghyuck alone was left unscathed.

He stayed, in the hopes that whatever sickness had come would soon pass, and that he could continue his life here, unencumbered by the outside world, by the men who hunted creatures like him. But fate, as Donghyuck would soon learn, was never all that kind to him. Not when he needed it most. And so as he watched his guardians pass away before his eyes, Donghyuck packed his meager belongings and caught the last ship off the island, disappearing into the seas, never to return to his makeshift home.

He spends the next half decade island hopping, wandering from place to place, never staying for more than a month in one place for long. There’s a restlessness underneath him, something ever present but had only just begun to flower and scratch under his skin. Something he was looking for, something, anything. 

Donghyuck was under no false impressions he would find his mother, he didn’t even know if she was alive, but the way his father had spoken about her, the way his eyes had lit up when he fell back into his memories… Well it made Donghyuck wonder what exactly she had been like to enthrall a person so. But even beyond that, he yearned to learn about his heritage, wanting to know where his powers stem from, to know everything. And so he spends years wandering, searching and searching until...

Until he ends up here. In this tiny excuse for an island, with brush covering half the area and thatched huts covering the other half. It's a mistake that he landed here; the ship he'd been on had been tossed about in an awful storm and they docked at the nearest place, desperate to make repairs. And it's been three months.

Three months of singing at the local tavern to make a living. Three months looking for the next adventure to take him out of this hell. Three months of boredom.

Until...

🌊

There's a man in his tavern. Donghyuck narrows his eyes at him as he sits by the bar, waiting for his turn to start singing. He's come every day for the last three days, taking the last seat at the very back of the tavern, his hat pulled tightly over his hair, and his eyes cast down low, flipping a handful of coins in between his fingers. He spoke to no one, didn't look at anyone, didn't move a muscle except to pick up his drink, until Donghyuck got on stage.

Donghyuck knows his powers, knows the impact he has, knows that people cannot look away when he opens his mouth, that it’s something more than just simple awe keeping their eyes fixed on him. But this is something different. He perches on his stool, letting his voice sail over the bar, ruling the night with pure power alone. And the whole time he watches the man watching him.

Donghyuck smiles, closing his eyes and tipping his head back as he transitions from one song to another. There's want in those eyes, pure and simple, something Donghyuck isn't a stranger to, but tonight he revels in it, letting the desire of those around him wash over him, letting his voice soar higher and stronger, twisting into the starry night above.

Donghyuck watches the man throughout the week, taking in his features, whatever of those are caught by the small lights flickering over the tavern. He bides his time, creates his plan. And at the end of the week, Donghyuck pushes his hair back, pulls up his sweetest smile, and makes his way to the back of the tavern.

"So," he says brightly, unable to stop the way his heart stutters at the stare the man narrows at him, fingers stilling on the table. "They tell me you're a captain."

The man's eyes darken and a dangerous smile starts playing about his lips. Deep in the cavern of Donghyuck's heart, half made of ice and half made of blood and flesh and muscle, a pounding starts up, strong and hard, reverberating so strong, he can feel it in his fingertips. Oh, how fun this would be.

🌊

Na Jaemin is perhaps the most thrilling storm Donghyuck has ever experienced and he wants to drown in him. Jaemin is ruthless, exhilarating, and immense, seeming to exist far beyond the physical bonds of his human self. He’s like a breath of fresh air where Donghyuck has been breathing in smoke for his whole life. 

Donghyuck wants him more than he's ever wanted anything before.

🌊

The soot still lingers faintly in the air, clinging to their clothes, despite it having been a week since they escaped the prison. Donghyuck sniffs his sleeve and scrunches up his nose in distaste when smoke fills his nostrils. He hates the smell of fire.

It's impressive how quickly the crew seems to slide back into their daily routines, as if this kind of occurrence was their normalcy, as if blowing up half an island was the kind of stuff they did to get warmed up for the day.

Only Jisung seems out of sorts, pale and withdrawn from the rest of them. Donghyuck watches but he says nothing. He's not sure Jisung would welcome unwanted reassurance, and besides, Donghyuck wouldn't even know what to say. His tongue doesn't know how to wield kindness easily, it's a hard fought battle, like a razor slicing out of his mouth, sharp and fit to hurt.

It turns out Donghyuck needn't have even worried.

"Jisung-ah."

Donghyuck wakes in his cabin to Jaemin's voice, right outside his cabin, calling softly into the night. He blinks rapidly in the dark, sleep still clinging the edges of his limbs, making him want to sink back into slumber, but something tells him that this would be worth staying awake for.

"Jisung," Jaemin calls again, stepping past the cabins to the deck and Donghyuck squints through the small curtain hanging in the window of the door.

There's a muffled reply that he can't make out and Donghyuck swings his legs off the bed, drawing his thin robe around him as he creaks open the door, peering out at the deck.

"Come here," Jaemin says, with his back to Donghyuck. Donghyuck expects Jisung to leap off the crow's nest, where he seems to spend most of his time, but he instead comes up out of the hull, nose twitching in a mouse like fashion as he draws near to Jaemin. Jaemin leads them over to the side of the ship, in full view of Donghyuck and sits down, patting the ground next to him in a silent call.

Jisung sniffs a little bit but sits down and Donghyuck carefully steps out of his cabin, hiding in the shadows as he inches forward to hear better. They sit in silence for a bit, Jaemin's head tipped up to the stars, and Jisung staring down at the ship, clearly uncomfortable if his constant shifting is any indication.

"You don't have to comfort me every time something like this happens, you know," Jisung blurts finally, when the quiet becomes too much for him to bear. "I'm not a child."

Jaemin looks down at him, surprise clear on his face. "I don't think of you as a child."

Jisung scowls. "You think I'm fragile though, that just because I was thrown in a prison when I was young, I'm suddenly going to break down at it happening again."

There's another beat of silence, and Jaemin heaves a quiet breath. "You shouldn't feel ashamed about what happened to you in your past. You were a child and you did your best."

Jisung snorts, and it's ugly and pained. "I was an idiot."

"You did your _best_ ," Jaemin stresses, and he turns, grabbing Jisung's hand in his own. "Not many children can say they survived their father leaving them and then watching their whole family die. _You_ did though. You _survived_." Donghyuck raises his eyebrows at that. He's sure it's almost a requirement to have a depressing life story aboard if you were a crew mate aboard _The King,_ but this was a special brand of misery, especially given how young Jisung _currently_ is.

Jisung opens his mouth to protest but Jaemin cuts him off, cupping his cheeks with both hands, voice fierce and warm, his thumbs stroking over the apples of Jisung's cheeks. "No, listen to me, Jisung Park. I'm sorry I put you in that position, I'll do my best to never let it happen to you again, but you know me - you know this life and chances are it probably will. And if you need to take your time and you need to adjust, that's all fine and I _will_ be here every single time to comfort you. Without question."

Jisung stares at him, eyes huge and watery and he sniffs loudly and then buries his face in Jaemin's neck, throwing his arms around him. Jaemin immediately hugs him back, one hand smoothing down Jisung's back.

"I'm sorry, Jisung-ah," Jaemin whispers, but it carries clear across the empty night. "I'll protect you, I promise."

"I can take care of myself," Jisung mumbles, but his grip on Jaemin's shirt tightens.

Donghyuck takes quiet breath and starts to slip back to his cabin. He's heard what he needs to and this is something he shouldn't be around to see. As he slips away, he hears Jaemin's low laugh, rolling across the deck, warm like a wave of sunlight.

"I know," he says. "But I'll do it anyway."

🌊

They're caught in the middle of a storm.

The seas were calm for the last fortnight, almost too much so and today it exploded. The clouds roll with a certain vengeance across the sky, obscuring the sun with their dark fluffy veils as the wind starts to buffet the ship, the waves slapping up against the side, high enough to splash onto the deck, the freezing water lapping at their ankles as it drains back over, only to be replaced again.

"Get me that rope, Jeno," Jaemin yells, as the rain comes down in sheets, buffeting against them hard. Donghyuck does what he can to help, doing what Chenle directs him to as best he can. He glances to where Jaemin stands by the wheel, taking in his strong figure, his pink hair drenched against his forehead, a bright smile stretched across his face.

"Here, grab this," Chenle yells and Donghyuck jumps, turning around to take the rope thrown at him. 

They fight the sea for what feels like hours, reigning in the sails to face against the wind. _The King_ is a massive ship, and rightly so, but Donghyuck can’t help but feel that here, in the midst of a raging storm at the mercy of the sea, it and all of its occupants are so very tiny. The wind roars for ages, thundering in their ears, wearying their limbs and soaking them to the bone until it finally, _finally_ seems to clear.

The rain slows to a drizzle, and the clouds, while still covering the sun, grow a bit lighter. If Donghyuck hadn’t just woken up a few hours earlier, he would have sworn up and down that it was the middle of the night.

Chenle drops the rope he’d been holding at Jaemin’s signal and drops to the ground, leaning heavily against the side of the ship and Donghyuck follows. He’s exhausted, down to his very core, but there’s something in him, something hard and fluttering that sings at the pure power of nature surrounding them, at the freedom coursing through his veins. 

“You’re kind of useless on a ship, aren’t you?” 

Donghyuck startles out of his thoughts, turning to Chenle. His lavender hair has darkened to a deep violet in the rain and he’s grinning, despite the welts covering his palms from fighting with the ropes. 

“I never had to be _useful_ ,” Donghyuck tells him, taking no offense. “My presence did the work for me.” 

Chenle rolls his eyes. “Why did I bother asking,” he says, but smiles when Donghyuck breaks into a laugh. “You’ll have to get used to it, you know. If you intend on sticking around.”

Donghyuck hums. He has no intentions of going anywhere. Jaemin Na is far, far too intriguing to let slip through his fingers and Donghyuck _wants_ him. Wants to crack open that strange hard shell that covers him, that can threaten to slit open Donghyuck’s throat, and in the next second, comfort someone so tenderly. He casts his gaze back to Jaemin, who’s talking to Jeno, hands gesturing excitedly as he does so.

“I’ve never seen a storm like that,” Donghyuck mentions instead of saying all of this. “Never, in all my years.”

“Yeah,” Chenle nods, raking a hand through his hair, gaze getting caught on something across the ship. “Well, strange things tend to happen around the captain. We’ve all just kind of accepted it as the norm now.” Donghyuck follows his stare, unable to hide his smirk when he sees Jeno pulling his drenched shirt, the white having turned practically transparent in the rain, away from his torso with a grimace as Jaemin cackles merrily beside him. 

🌊

Freedom is a strange little thing.

Because if you live outside of a prison cell, if you are free to make your own decisions, if you can control your destiny with some modicum of knowledge, then for all intents and purposes, you are considered to be free.

Donghyuck knows this. He knows that he is free, that for all the bad luck he's had, he's come out of it on the better side of things and that his heritage protects him. But it's funny, the way life can twist your perspective and the way you see things after a truly _horrendous_ amount of shit has been thrown at you.

Donghyuck knows he's free, but this, sitting here on the deck table of _The King_ , watching the sea pass by him in waves, this feels like the freest he's ever been. What must it be like? To live as a crew member aboard this ship, to know that whatever happened, whatever you'd been through, you'd still be beautifully free. Donghyuck had never lived a life like that. For all his adventure, he'd kept himself under the radar, kept his powers in check, kept to himself. He'd never experienced the euphoria of letting go.

The sun is setting, slowly sinking into the blue blanket, gold melting into sapphire and Donghyuck doesn't move when the table shifts as Jaemin joins him, crossing his legs in between his arms.

"Na the Mad," Donghyuck says quietly. Jaemin lets out an acknowledging hum. "I kind of get it, now. It's a beautiful sight, this. I can see why you'd fight tooth and nail to keep it."

Jaemin huffs out a quiet laugh. "Oh, little siren of mine. It's not the sights that I fight for." Donghyuck turns, forehead creased in question and Jaemin tips his head to the side, a grin curling over his wicked lips. "It's the fight itself," he says tantalizingly, leaning forward. "The adrenaline in your veins, the sound of swords clanging, the smell of _fear_ in the air. _That's_ what I fight for."

Donghyuck meets his gaze. "You're a crazy fucker, aren't you?"

The grin widens. "If the name fits," Jaemin says brightly, turning back to the sea.

Donghyuck gazes back out at the sea as well. The last vestiges of the sun have almost tipped beneath the waters, the last rays of gold sparkling over the waves. "I suppose you’ve decided to trust me then? No longer ready to watch me bleed out in front of you?”

Jaemin shrugs. “I’ve always found it to be a very intimate act.”

Donghyuck turns to look at him, eyes widening. “What? Killing?”

He feels more than sees Jaemin’s smile, insidious and dark, crawling up over his forearms and curving over his shoulders. “Indeed. Besides, it’s not trust. It’s interest.” Jaemin regards him. “You’ve captured my interest, and I want to see where you take it next.”

“Ah,” Donghyuck whispers, drifting closer. “But what if I want to capture your heart?” 

His smirk grows when Jaemin blinks, visibly surprised, a half a second of weakness, before he’s back on form again. “Well then,” he says, lifting a hand to thumb at Donghyuck’s lower lip. “I suppose you’ll have to try very hard then. It’s quite difficult to entice me, you know. I’m not easily drawn to desire.”

Donghyuck tips his head, the feeling of victory slipping over him, slow and molten. That may have been true in the past, but Jaemin is dealing with an entirely different breed of human now. And Donghyuck’s heritage is the very reason he is still alive today. No one drowns the singing of a siren’s heart.

“Don’t underestimate me, Captain Na,” Donghyuck tells him. “I told you before, you belong to me. Now it’s just a game of how fast I’m going to make you mine.”

Jaemin’s thumb pauses on his lip. Then he leans in, so close that his lips brush his finger, still touching Donghyuck. “What if it’s the other way around?” He asks. “What will you do then?” 

Donghyuck tips his head. “Sirens never lose, Jaemin. And I _especially_ never lose.”

Jaemin’s hand drops down between their bodies. “I can’t wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fav character poll in the comments below:


	7. i wonder if devils get nightmares of all of their victims as well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a ghost appears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been so long since I updated, and I am so sorry about that. It's been a hellish few weeks at school and I've been drowning under the weight of my assignments as well having a horrific case of writer's block. Updates will probably be sporadic and rare from here on out, at least until break comes. 
> 
> This chapter is really short, because I wanted to keep the same pattern of one pov per chapter so there's going to be around three chapters in succession that follow the same pattern of events, but with differing pov's. Hopefully I'll get those up soon. 
> 
> If this chapter sounds a bit weird and stream of consciousnessy, consider whose pov it's coming from ^_^. The Southern Islands are inspired off [Lake Town](http://cdn.collider.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/hobbit-desolation-of-smaug-lake-town1.jpg) from the Hobbit. 
> 
> There's an Italian song someone recced to me for TSS and it's frankly the prettiest song i've ever heard so listen to [Torna a Casa](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IUkr9_ORhCI) while reading this chapter and read the lyrics later for an extra shot to the heart.
> 
> All my love to leo for the help, she's the best ever. <3 
> 
> Enjoy~~

_**After** _

There are stories Jaemin’s heard of; of long lost loves, of the ones who loved them fading away, of the songs sung in their memory and the statues erected for their ghosts to reside by. He never believed those stories before, never understood the longing behind them, never could fully absorb the pain in the singer’s voices, could never really equate it to any such feeling that had passed through his chest. Now, though. Now it’s a different story entirely. 

There had been a question posed to Jaemin once, in a seedy, nearly empty bar on an island the name of which he cannot recall, by a man whose features were indistinguishable from those around him - that if Jaemin could erase his memories, if there were a spell that allowed him to forget those terrible memories that haunted his every waking moment, would he take the chance? 

Jaemin had thought about it - not quite then, as he was horrifically drunk at the time - but later, when his head was pounding and the smell of the sea made him feel worse rather than curing his nausea. He pondered his life, every inch, every curve, every dark cloud. He had thought of all the things he had done, of all the things that had been done _to_ him. He thought of Donghyuck and that flash of a memory had been enough to have him leaning over the side of the ship, throwing up green bile, his throat burning and heart aching, suddenly struggling to breathe. 

However, at the end of it all, and when significantly less hungover, Jaemin had come to the conclusion that he would not have, not for any reason, not for any amount of relief from the pain, not for _anything_ , given up his memories. They were what made him who he was. Without Jaemin’s pain, he lost his drive. And what was a pirate without passion? He was a dead man walking, after all. You didn’t dare to sail the seas without holding love, or at least a very healthy amount of fear in your heart, for her. And you didn’t dare to call yourself a pirate unless you let yourself be wildly ruled by your passions and wants. 

And Jaemin? Well, all Jaemin wants is to see Donghyuck back in his arms. And if he can’t have that, he’ll burn the whole world down in Donghyuck’s name. 

🌊

The Southern Islands are huddled together in a tiny patch of the ocean, several ragged islands, connected by narrow straits. Despite the name, the weather was almost always freezing, an effect of magic perhaps, or maybe simply due to the frigid nature of its inhabitants. Ice starts dotting the sea around them, tiny floes of ice parting around the ship, the sea a frigid blue green, as the sun shines down on them, the warm rays doing nothing to ease the shivers wracking their limbs. 

They take their flag down miles out, having learned from lessons past and replace it with a standard one bearing the colours of the royal family. The plan was to pose as a merchant ship, heading back to the mainland after long travels. The problem lay in whether they could maintain the illusion once under intense scrutiny and suspicion.

Jaemin leans against the wheel, feeling it spin under his hands, feeling the wood grow warm under his insistent touch. _Are you leading me the right way?_ He thinks. It’s not a necessary question, but the ship has been silent for days now, the crew included and the tense quiet has been building up steadily, much like the snow dotting the deck. The ship hums under his hands, the wind picking up briefly, sending a shock of frigid air into Jaemin’s limbs, before quieting down again. 

Jaemin looks up across the deck. It’s been empty for days, his crew, more creatures of sun and warmth than they were of ice, had retreated under deck to huddle together in the warmth. Only Renjun remained, sitting at the table, brow furrowed as he traces over the burnt map with thin fingers. 

“Can I trust him?” Jaemin whispers, a puff of white escaping his lips as he considers Renjun. The ship doesn’t answer this time but Jaemin hadn’t expected one. There are some things in this world that he has to figure out for himself. Renjun looks up, in that second, and meets Jaemin’s gaze, sapphire blue eyes pinning him to where he stood.

Mark had told him what Renjun had said, had tracked Renjun’s movements about the ship for the last month, and had concluded in a gruff tone, with much annoyance at having to concede his view, that Renjun did not seem as prone to placing them in danger as either of them had initially thought. 

“But that doesn’t mean he won’t do something to betray us later on,” Mark had added glancing up at Jaemin, through his lashes. “Don’t get complacent.” 

“Perhaps I should be saying that to you,” Jaemin had remarked and the flush that had misted over Mark’s cheeks, rare and fascinating to watch, had pleased him endlessly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mark had snapped and Jaemin had just laughed, letting him be. Neither of them needed Jaemin to elaborate. Just as Jaemin hated that Mark knew him so well, as did Mark. And it was no secret to Jaemin that Mark followed Renjun around with eyes filled with suspicion and many, many other feelings. 

Jaemin raises an eyebrow at Renjun, who stares back for beat, two, three, before dropping his gaze back to the map. However, it doesn’t feel much like a victory and Jaemin does so hate to lose. So, he makes his way down to Renjun, setting gingerly on the cold seat as Renjun raises his eyes from the map. 

“Not one for the cold, the lot of you,” Renjun comments casually, a smirk ghosting around the edge of his lips. 

“Not one for unnatural weather,” Jaemin mutters, drawing his coat in tighter around them and casting an annoyed look at the icy sky around them. He’s so glad that they raided that shipping vessel a week ago, stealing all the clothes they could take, including large fur coats, the insulation warm against the unfriendly weather. 

“As if this ship isn’t unnatural,” Renjun retorts and the ship lets out a groan, the sails flapping in his direction for half a second before returning to their original position. 

“This ship is magic,” Jaemin corrects. “She isn’t unnatural.”

“If you say so,” Renjun snorts, pushing a hand through his ebony hair, as he gazes out at the horizon. Jaemin eyes him, considering. Jaemin Na does not desire. This is a fact that runs as true as the rule of the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. He did not desire at all until he did, and then he did so for one person and one person only. 

Now, Jaemin knows what it feels like to want someone, but the feeling is dulled, like his nerve endings have been burned away by fire, like there’s a coating of concrete wrapping around him, encasing his heart in a cold shell. He remembers, vaguely, what it felt like to look at Donghyuck and crave him, even when he was standing right beside Jaemin, even when they were intertwined, even when they were together. He partially realises, in a distant, faded sort of way, the thrall that Renjun holds. It’s those eyes, Jaemin thinks, that draws Jeno in. Blue and cold and shining. Glittering with all the rules he likes to break. It’s the sharp tongue that Mark hates to battle against, especially when that hatred is diminished by a much stronger feeling. 

He doesn’t understand, truly. There was only one person that Jaemin ever wanted. Ever looked at and desired so badly it felt like his body was drying up from a lack of water and his bones were giving out from the ache. And that person did not have blue eyes or dark hair. That person did not reside in front of him. That person was long, long lost. Maybe long, long gone. 

Jaemin closes his eyes against the harsh glare of the sun. He can’t recall Donghyuck’s face in as much detail as he used to be able to. He remembers the tilt of his lips, remembers his golden eyes, remembers the way his silver hair had felt brushing against Jaemin’s fingers. He remembers the major points but the details, they escape him. He can’t remember what Donghyuck’s laugh sounded like, can’t remember the pitch of his gasps as their hands had met, fingers lacing around each other as Jaemin had rocked into him, lips pressed to a slick golden throat, can’t remember the way Donghyuck had looked when he sang.

If anything, he supposes it’s consolation, as poor as it is, that he can still remember what his voice sounded like. But Jaemin knows that Donghyuck’s voice will never leave his head. It’ll stay there, swirling around in his head, forever haunting him, forever driving him insane, forever making him wait for someone who probably wasn’t even alive-

Jaemin shoves away from the table, his breath suddenly coming in quick pants, the cold air filling up his lungs, making them seem tighter. The memories start coming in faster flashes, whirling around him and Jaemin clutches his hands to his head, a gasp shuddering out of him. 

Renjun looks up at him in alarm. “Jaemin?” He reaches up, as if to touch Jaemin, but Jaemin pulls away before he can make contact, walking back to his cabin as fast as he can and slamming the door behind him, before sinking to the ground, head still clutched in his hands. It feels like he’s coming apart at the seams, unravelling like a spool of thread, fragments of himself disappearing into the empty space around him, ghosts of memories wafting into the air. 

Donghyuck’s face swims into view, a laugh curling about his lips, head tipped back in glee. It sounds wrong, so wrong it rankles at Jaemin, drawing his shoulders in tight, making goosebumps break out all over his body. The laugh sounds wrong but for the life of him, Jaemin can’t figure out how to fix it. Donghyuck looks the same but his features are blurred out, the gaps in Jaemin’s memory making themselves known. It’s all wrong. 

_I told you Jaemin,_ Donghyuck whispers, and Jaemin shudders, scrunching his eyes tighter, as if pure force could banish the apparition in his head. _You’re mine. Now and forever._

 _Get out, get out, get out-_ Jaemin thinks desperately, but the laughing in his head only increases and Jaemin sinks his teeth into his forearm and tries not to scream too loudly. The nausea rises up in his throat and he chokes on nothing, breathless and drowning all at once. 

He tries to keep quiet though. He doesn’t want his noises to drown out the sound of Donghyuck’s laugh. It’s the only time he gets to see him anymore after all. 

🌊

The day they dock at the easternmost island is a freezing one. 

All of the crew have changed, donning their least ratty clothes, covering up their tattoos, and in Mark’s case, pulling his hair back so that it doesn’t hang about his face like a wild monster’s. They look… respectable. 

“I hate this,” Jeno grumbles, shifting under the tight coat thrown over his shoulders, the seams straining at the ends. It was an old coat, procured from the depths of their trunks, bright red with gold ribbing around the edge, most probably stolen from a navy ship. “We look like fucking poncy merchants.” 

“Exactly the type of look we’re going for,” Renjun mutters dryly. “Given that we _don’t_ want to be involved in another battle.”

“Why don’t you want to be?” Chenle sneers, peering around Jisung’s body to glare at him. “Getting sick already of the life? I’m surprised you lasted this long.”

Renjun opens his mouth to argue but Jaemin’s attention is drawn away when a voice speaks next to him.

 _Stop them fighting_. 

He looks up from fiddling with his belt to see Donghyuck standing beside him and his heart stops, the blood in his veins turning to ice at the sight, before reasoning kicks in. He’s not fully there, half faded like what a ghost might look like if Jaemin believed in those but how could he not now? When he was being tormented daily by a long lost love? Just like in the songs he’d once scoffed at. 

Jaemin forces himself to breathe normally. Mark’s standing right next to him and he’ll notice if he starts acting strange. This isn’t the first time it’s happened. Control. 

Donghyuck smirks at him. _I’m here, you know. Just thinking I’m a ghost isn’t going to push me away_. Donghyuck steps closer, wrapping a silvery hand around Jaemin’s arm. It doesn’t feel like anything but Jaemin’s half convinced he can still feel the warmth of Donghyuck’s skin. Donghyuck pouts up at him and Jaemin can’t help the way his heart flutters at that. Even as a fucking figment of his imagination, Donghyuck still has an iron hold over him. _Stop them fighting, Jaemin, it’s giving me a headache_.

Jaemin must be going mad. It’s the only explanation.

If he hasn’t already.

He turns away from Donghyuck to face his crew. Out of the corner of his eye, he spies Donghyuck’s body melting away into thin air. “Stop it,” Jaemin orders, closing his eyes briefly. “We’ve got shit to get done and I’m not putting up with this while we’re still on this godforsaken place.”

He glances up at the docks, and while Jaemin likes to believe he’s not afraid of anything, half his body breaks into chills when he spots several eyes glaring back at them, narrowed in suspicion. 

Jaemin throws his shoulders back and squares himself. “Listen up. We’re here for a week, we’re not going to get our supplies otherwise, and I’m pretty sure we’re going to end up killing each other if we stay on this ship in close proximity for much longer.”

He doesn’t miss the way Renjun bristles at Chenle, but he moves on. It’s not his problem to deal with, not yet anyway. Not until Chenle somehow manages to get a leg up on Jeno after all this time. 

“Stay safe. Stay _out_ of trouble.” A look shot at Jisung and Chenle. “And stay together. I mean it this time.”

🌊

They split up, branching off in groups and Jaemin stays back, keeping an eye on them as they disperse in the center of town to carry out their errands; such as ensuring they would have enough water and food on board to make it to the mainland. They were hardly likely to stop from here on out, and regardless there were no islands yet discovered of that they could dock on to get more supplies. 

Jaemin keeps watch, leaning against the side of the butcher house with his hat pulled down low, until Jeno’s white hair has vanished into the crowd with a hand thatJaemin knows is clamped tightly around Chenle’s arm. He hopes those two get their shit together. And soon. Jaemin might not take his own advice very well but he _knows_ himself. And Jaemin knows that whatever he does if this plan fails, whatever happens to him, whatever way his mind decides to go, he’s going to need someone to hold him down. Hold him back. 

Jaemin, however, rarely follows his own advice. So he feels no qualms whatsoever about traversing down the streets while looking out for any suspicious eyes, any particular people he sees too many times, any followers that might slip behind hidden corners, before he finds the most downtrodden pub at the edge of the city and slides inside. The best information comes from places like this, where the beer flows too much, the lips open too loosely, and the realities of the world are lost behind the smoky haze of cigars and dreams far too in the past to make any sense of now. 

He grabs two pints of beer, tipping a flat grin at the barmaid who flushes prettily at the attention, before finding a seat in the shadows, keeping his back to the wall and his eyes roaming around the room. He wonders what his crew is up to. He wonders what’s going to happen when they reach the mainland. He wonders if Donghyuck’s -

Jaemin cuts that thought process off before it can develop claws and sink too tightly into the forefront of his mind. 

It never bears well thinking about Donghyuck. He just had to let him come to him first. 

An hour later Jaemin is four pints in, and half slumped over the table. It’s dangerous, he knows. This place is hardly friendly to outsiders and even less so to renegades of the law, but it’s been a long few weeks. Hell, it’s been a long few _years_. He’s giving himself this moment, these few hours to get drunk and to let his mind wander, to let himself think freely without consequence, without wondering what his face looks like on the outside. And if it’s fight someone in this bar wants, Jaemin’s more than happy to oblige.

He rests his cheek on his arm, laid out on the sticky table, and props his hand up so he can twist the ring between thumb and middle finger. The rose quartz glitters in the candle light placed on the table and suddenly, Jaemin can hardly breathe around the tightness in his throat. In his lungs. 

He remembers, with startling clarity, the day he’d given the twin ring to Donghyuck. He remembers the way Donghyuck looked at him, eyes wide. Remembers the way he’d twisted the ring onto his thumb finger. Remembers the way Donghyuck had kissed him right after, remembers the way his hands curled into Jaemin’s hair, remembers the way the cold ring pressed against the back of his neck, remembers, remembers, _remembers-_

There’s a slight cough and Jaemin peeks up to see Donghyuck sitting in the chair opposite him, still the same; his body still faded, his hair still silver, the same smile still curled on his perfect pink lips. 

_Oh, Jaemin_ , Donghyuck breathes, leaning in, a sad look crossing his face. _What happened to you, my love?_

“What- what do you mean?” Jaemin asks fuzzily, propping himself up on his elbow, squinting at Donghyuck. 

_You’ve changed_ , Donghyuck says, curling a hand around Jaemin’s cheek. He doesn’t feel it. He wishes he could. Donghyuck’s eyes glimmer the same shade as the candles. _You used to be so full of light, so full of_ fire _. You were my everything. Why are you almost nothing now? What happened?_

“You were gone,” Jaemin chokes out and tears swarm his vision. He grits his teeth and digs his nails into his opposite forearm. Blood wells up under his fingernails but he refuses to let go. “You disappeared. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t fucking get you _back_.”

 _Na the Mad,_ Donghyuck sighs, tipping his head sideways. The sad smile vanishes from his face and he suddenly looks cruel. Jaemin gasps on nothing. Smoke fills his lungs. Blood drips down his arm, spotting the table. _I suppose you’ve really gone mad now, haven’t you._

Jaemin closes his eyes. He always did adore Donghyuck when he was horrible. He supposes this is his payment now, his twisted mind getting back at him. Fate laughing in his face for presuming to be something far more, for presuming he’d have far more than he ever could. “Go away, Donghyuck.” 

Donghyuck’s laugh echoes around his head as it fades. _As you wish, my love_ , he whispers, so close that Jaemin’s sure he’s pressing his lips against the shell of his ear, but he doesn’t want to check. _I’ll be back soon, anyway. I told you, Captain. I’m never leaving you_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor jaemin, talking to the ghosts in his head...


	8. when i was a child, i'd sit for hours, staring into open flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a conclusion?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god even I didn't think it'd take this long for me to update this story, my midterms season absolutely wrecked me and on top of that I haven't written properly in weeks. today was just a fluke and it somehow turned into this chapter. 
> 
> i hope that this chapter eases the pain of waiting a little bit <3
> 
> p.s thank you to my amazing beta who made this chapter twenty times better than it originally was

_**After** _

Chenle’s always loved fire. 

He’s never shied away from the flickering flames, from the heat, from the danger that licks closer and closer to his vulnerable skin. Ever since he was a child, when he looked into the yawning orange flame, he didn’t feel the same fear others felt. He revelled in it.

If there was one thing Chenle’s ever loved, it’s always been and will always be fire. But he wasn’t expecting Jeno to factor into that equation. 

It’s infuriating. 

For most of his life, Chenle had liked his family, adored the sea, and delighted with all his heart in the feeling of fire teasing about his fingers, ready to bite, ready to burn. But then he had met Jeno Lee, and it was like all the previous obsessions Chenle held had melted away under the firm touch of Jeno’s hand stopping him from flinging another burning bottle into a lit up house. 

It’s infuriating because it only took one second, one glance up at Jeno’s icy eyes, one press of his fingers against Chenle’s arm, and everything else suddenly seemed inconsequential.

It’s infuriating, because Jeno is nothing like what Chenle should be attracted to. Because Jeno isn’t fire; he’s the complete opposite. He’s calm, cool blue waters, equilibrium when the waves are rocking the boat in a storm, ready to capsize them over at any point. He’s the balance in their motley crew made up of monsters and bombs ready to go off at any point. Chenle shouldn’t be this drawn to him… And yet. And yet. 

In all the years they had sailed together, Chenle’s infatuation had never once died down, had always flickered at the base of his stomach, small orange embers burning, waiting for a breath of air to spring into a raging flame once again. In all the years he had been aboard the _Song_ , Chenle always thought he would one day have a chance. In all these years, Chenle had always harbored a small seed of hope, a small thing with feathers singing a silent tune in his ribcage, that one day, Jeno might rid himself of the responsibility clinging tightly to his shoulders like a second skin, and look up to see the silent affection that had been directed at him all this time. 

Across the ship, Jeno throws his head back laughing, eyes curving up into half moons, delighting in something Renjun says. 

Perhaps not, then. Perhaps, Chenle really had let himself become shackled to someone who was unaware they were holding the other end of the chain. 

He swallows around the painful block suddenly building up in his throat and looks away to Jisung, who’s fiddling with the end of his fancy jacket’s sleeves. His face is pale and withdrawn, the only spot of colour on his cheeks, pink and raw where the winter wind had whipped at it. 

Chenle frowns. “Are you okay?”

Jisung doesn’t answer, lost in thought as he stares mindlessly at a patch of wood, his fingers twisting a loose thread from the right sleeve around and around in his fingers, tightening until the fingers start to turn purple from loss of circulation before unwinding and starting the whole cycle all over again. 

Chenle steps closer, nudging him with his shoulder. “Jisung.”

Jisung startles at his voice close to his ear and looks up at Chenle in confusion. “What?” He asks, stepping back, letting go of the thread and shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s what I’m asking you,” Chenle points out gently, because Jisung still looks a little frightened, his big eyes wide and his shoulders hunched in, as if expecting a blow. “You were miles away, whatever were you think about?” 

Jisung shrugs, but Chenle doesn’t miss the glance he flicks at Jaemin, standing at the wheel, staring listlessly out at the frigid sea. “A lot of things,” he says before drawing back, and settling his shoulders. “Come on, we should get the anchor out before we dock.”

Chenle follows him, but not before throwing a surreptitious glance behind him at Jeno. His heart skips several beats when he sees Jeno staring back at him, a frown creasing his handsome features, lips pursed in concentration. Chenle turns quickly back around, hurrying to catch up with Jisung. 

🌊

Jaemin is as quiet as Jisung as they unload whatever cargo they need to survive the Southern Islands for the week, his shoulders drawn in tight, a look on his face that, if Chenle didn’t know Jaemin, if he didn’t know that Jaemin Na hardly held any fears, he would call afraid. 

The air is tense as they step onto the dock, and Chenle almost flinches when he spies strangers peering down at them from the buildings overlooking the dock, their eyes narrowed. They didn’t look very friendly. 

A cold wind whips through the docks all of a sudden, the ships creaking in unison. Below them, seen through a crack in the docks, an ice floe slams into the wooden post and shatters apart with silent determination. Chenle follows one of the pieces of ice, watches as it drifts away from the others before getting swallowed up by the sea, too small to float by itself. He waits until the last point of the floe has disappeared under the rocking sea and swallows, turning back to tune into Jaemin’s words. 

“...Stay out of trouble, I mean it,” Jaemin shoots them a pointed look and Chenle wrinkles his nose at him. Suddenly, Jaemin stiffens, turning his body slightly, as if listening to someone standing beside him, but there was no one standing there. They all pretend not to notice, as it’s not a singular occurrence these days, and Chenle’s attention instead gets caught on Renjun, who’s watching him with contemplative eyes. 

“What?” Chenle spits, his hackles rising. “What _now_?”

Renjun raises an eyebrow, but infuriatingly says nothing. Chenle takes a step forward, but before he can do something or even _decide_ to do something, Jeno wraps a hand around his bicep and yanks him back behind him. 

“What-” Chenle starts, outraged, but Jeno shoots him a fiercely quelling look, his eyebrows drawing down and Chenle falls silent, bristling. 

Jaemin comes back to himself and dismisses them with an easy wave, and they all grudgingly scatter, picking up the forms and various trunks to put all their goods into it. 

“Jisung, do you want to-” Chenle starts, turning to his friend, but Jeno’s hand tightens on his arm and tugs him to his side. 

“We’re going together,” Jeno informs him and he starts walking, pulling Chenle behind him, leaving the rest of the crew in the dust. “You and I need to _talk_.”

🌊

Chenle’s always loved old towns. He grew up on the aristocratic part of the Mainland, large fancy mansions and old temples built for the Goddesses of the old days, spread lavishly across lush fields and busy city streets, their white marble towers rising up out of the dust and grime of daily life, a league above their own. There’s hardly a sight like that in the islands they visit now. Even the most populated ones have low buildings, constructed close to the ground to minimise any damage the weather could cause. The old towns Chenle used to run through, following his father on his errands as he travelled from town to town collecting taxes for the Queen had been his youth, had been what Chenle considered art. 

The Southern Islands are nothing like those. And yet, Chenle was still intrigued.

He pads slowly behind Jeno, keeping close to his back as they weave around the crush of people in the main square, peering over the side of the bridges to the canals below where longboats were slowly moving, carrying passengers from one building to the next, their lamps the only light guiding their way through the ice gathering even here. It was an intricate place, held together by rope bridges and small connections, the houses essentially floating on water.

“Keep up,” Jeno orders, but his voice isn’t as gruff as it was before. Jeno did not hold onto anger easily, but he certainly held onto the veil of responsibility with an iron grip, choosing to use that to discipline rather than raise his voice. Chenle had long become immune to Jeno’s temperament after one of their fights and it hardly bothered him anymore. “I don’t want you to get lost here.” Chenle raises an eyebrow at Jeno’s back but he doesn’t turn around. 

Chenle thinks about pressing himself to Jeno’s back, saying the words into Jeno’s ear just to see him flinch, but he doesn’t want to exacerbate Jeno’s bad mood so he just sighs. “I am.”

He knows the fight that’s coming. It’s been slowly building for weeks and it’s close to bursting now, Chenle can feel it. It’s going to come. After they get their jobs done.

They spend hours walking around the island, putting in orders to several vendors, all of whom treat them with a distant inhospitality that sets Chenle on edge. Jeno keeps his calm though, as always, smiling regardless of the frosty words thrown at them, and handing over whatever payment required, no matter how high the price. 

“Why do you keep giving into their demands?” Chenle hisses into Jeno’s ear as they leave the butcher, bracing against the fierce wind that whips into their faces as they open the door. 

“Because I don’t want to start a fight we can’t win,” Jeno hisses back, keeping a smile fixed on his face as they open the door to the neighbouring store. The smell of dried fruits and vegetables hit them straight in the face, and Chenle’s stomach growls in recognition. Jeno shoots him a dry look before walking up to the counter, his smile fixed on his face.

Chenle hangs back, peering at the various vegetables that hang from the ceiling, knots of garlic twisted around a rope, brushing the tops of the shelves, and potatoes laid out on a table, salted and drying by the fire. It smells heavenly. 

The transaction takes longer than usual, and when Chenle drifts up to the front, poking his head around Jeno’s body to glimpse the forms laid out on the counter, he is greeted with a tense sight. It was no secret that the Southern Islands were fiercely loyal to the Queen and King and that they despised outsiders, and even more so, pirates. And that hatred had developed into an outright xenophobic attitude. 

The woman’s face was drawn tight, lips pursed as if she had just bit into a fresh lemon, her fingers clenched around the quill as Jeno bumbled through the Queen’s tongue used by all who lived on the mainland. 

Chenle rolls his eyes and nudges Jeno. “Tell me what you want.”

Jeno frowns at him. “What? No, she already hates me - oh.” His face clears and Chenle raises an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, okay, we need several pounds of these vegetables and fruits and I think she’s trying to up the price on me all of a sudden.” 

“What happened to not starting a fight,” Chenle mutters to himself, and before Jeno can say anything to that, he plants himself in front of the counter, putting his back to Jeno and summons up the language he’d grown up with, sitting dusty and unused at the back of his tongue after so many years at sea in an entirely different world. 

The language of the mainland and that of the islands surrounding them - and consequently the one that Jaemin and the rest of the crew spoke with ease - did not have many differences. A lot of the words were similar and the phrasing was not hard to grasp, but it was _just_ different enough that Chenle, an outsider who had grown up with another mother tongue, had had a lot of difficulty learning how to twist the intonations to fit the people he had chosen to surround himself with. 

It’s rough at the beginning, but by the end of the conversation, the woman’s face had cleared, something even close to a smile grudgingly rising to her lips as they pay and exit the store. 

“I’m sorry,” Jeno mumbles as they weave around a group of old men sitting on barrels outside a bar. “I should have remembered you spoke the language here.”

Chenle shrugs. “It’s been a while,” is all he says. Neither conciliatory nor inflammatory. Jeno presses closer to him, a silent apology all on its own and then moves away, leading them through the crowd to the next stop. 

🌊

The sun is about to set when they exit the last shop and Chenle’s legs are about to give out from the strain of walking around for hours. 

“Food,” he demands, latching onto Jeno’s arm and tugging him down the empty streets. There’s a flash of memory, of this same action with Jeno, stumbling through darkened alleyways, though at that time there had been the faint blur of alcohol heavying his limbs and clouding his vision. 

“Food,” Jeno agrees, a faint smile on his lips as they walk back by the main square, into the fullest and loudest pub, the light and the conversation spilling out of the open windows onto the street outside. 

They find a table by the entrance, squeezing in behind several burly men to the last table by the corner. Jeno goes to get them food and drinks and Chenle waits, narrowing his eyes at anyone who stares at him for too long. When Jeno comes back, setting down large pieces of bread and meat, beer mugs overflowing at the rim, Chenle is about to faint from hunger and he pushes aside his trepidation at the conversation that they both knew was coming and chooses to slide a plate towards himself. They both don’t speak, too focused on shovelling food into their mouths and drinking to soothe the heavy ache that had weighed down their limbs. 

When Jeno finally looks up at him, popping the last piece of bread into his mouth, Chenle raises an eyebrow back, draining his mug and setting it on the table. “Go ahead,” he says, bracing himself for the argument he knows is about to follow. Jeno might be the exact opposite of fire, but there was a reason that opposites clashed. Chenle might have been infatuated with Jeno, but that didn’t mean he didn’t disagree with him. He and Jeno had spiralled into arguments more than once in the years they had spent together, and Chenle was hardly afraid of him. But that didn’t mean he had to enjoy it though. No matter how pretty Jeno looked when angry. “You said we need to speak.”

Jeno sits up, pushing his plate away from him, his face settling into stone. “We do.”

And here is where Jeno truly transforms into the title he had held for so long. Responsibility and duty shrouding over him, becoming another piece of his armour. The armour Chenle could never seem to break, no matter how hard he tried. 

Jeno speaks first. “You need to stop baiting Renjun. You need to stop fighting with Renjun, you need to stop everything. I mean it.”

Chenle meets his gaze. “Why?”

Jeno blinks, the first sign of a chink in the armour. “Because I say so,” he snaps. “As your First Mate, I say so. Your bad attitude is putting the whole crew, this whole undertaking at risk and you-”

“I’m not affecting anyone but you,” Chenle interrupts, straightening. “Even Renjun doesn’t seem to care, but you,” he leans forward, staring at Jeno. “ _You_ do. So much. Why is that, Jeno? Why do you care what I do to some stranger?”

“Because it’s not _you_ ,” Jeno spits back. Chenle’s mouth parts in confusion. Jeno puts his palms flat on the table in silent insistence. “You aren’t like _this_ , you’re _good_ and you’re happy and you’re the light of this silly, stupid crew and you don’t act like this, so why _now_?”

Chenle stares at him, unable to speak. The silence fills between them, as best it can with a rowdy pub’s noises swirling around them and only then, when the silence stretches like a band about to snap, does Jeno realise what he’s said. He turns a faint shade of pink but he doesn’t look away, and it’s that silent stubbornness that finally prompts Chenle to speak. 

“The light?” He asks faintly. “How can you say that to me?” Jeno’s blush gets stronger, but Chenle ignores it for the indignation, the anger percolating from years of pain and hurt bubbling up in his chest. 

“How dare you say that to me?” Chenle demands, a faint burning starting at the back of his throat. “You _know_ how much I’ve-” he cuts himself off before he can finish that horrifying sentence and bites his tongue before starting over again. “You have _no_ right to ask me about my emotions when you essentially decided to pretend for the last five years that they didn’t exist. That _I_ didn’t exist in anything but a friendly capacity to you. You don’t _get_ to do that Jeno. Not after all this time.” 

Jeno’s mouth is open, staring at him, but Chenle can’t find it in him to stop. It’s as if a dam has broken in his chest, and all the feelings, all the words he’d swallowed down all these years, have come bursting out and he just can’t stop. “You want to know why I’m so angry?” Chenle demands furiously, horrified to find tears burning at the back of his eyes. “It’s because you chose to ignore me all this time only to turn around and eye-fuck a complete _stranger_. Because he wouldn’t pose a threat to your stupid idea of responsibility! Well guess what, Jeno, he probably _will_. He will have an impact on us, he _will_ hurt Jaemin and you won’t be able to protect him because you were too blind to see what was in front of you this whole time!”

Silence falls, those nearest to them turning around to stare, and Chenle abruptly realises he’s been practically yelling at Jeno. Jeno’s staring up at him, devastation in his eyes, and Chenle can’t meet his gaze, can’t look at him anymore. He shoves away from the table, the chair screeching too loudly, and runs out into the night as fast he can, dodging stray passersby, ignoring Jeno’s calls behind him. 

🌊

Of course, Chenle’s luck being what it was, Jeno catches up to him easily. 

“Chenle!”

Chenle ignores him, ducking around another corner. With all luck, he can lose Jeno in the mess of alleyways and rivers that make up the eastern island, but Jeno’s much faster than he gives him credit for and within seconds, Jeno’s caught up to him, his hand latching around Chenle’s wrist and yanking him back. Chenle goes sprawling into Jeno’s chest, catching himself against Jeno’s body, freezing for half a second before yanking himself back. 

“Let go of me,” Chenle spits, anger and embarrassment choking him. 

“Please stop running from me,” Jeno gasps out, tugging him closer. Chenle tries to run once more, because _anything_ would be better than having another excruciating conversation with Jeno, but Jeno grabs him and pushes him up against the alley wall, trapping him in between the wall and his body. “ _Stop running_. _Chenle_.” 

“I have nothing to say to you,” Chenle snaps. “Let go of me.” 

“But _I_ do,” Jeno insists. “You can’t just- just say that and not let me- not let me _respond_.”

“Why?” Chenle demands, staring up at him. “Why can’t I? You haven’t bothered responding in years, what changed now?”

“I…” Jeno’s voice seems to fail, and his hand loosens from Chenle’s wrist, falling away. Chenle makes no move to run though, it seems futile at this point. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Chenle laughs in his face. “It’s a little late for that, Jeno,” he snaps. 

Jeno doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that, and Chenle huffs a mirthless laugh. He suddenly feels exhausted. Exhausted from having to deal with this spinning top that is him and Jeno, that is his feelings and Jeno’s obliviousness.

He steps back as best he can, pressing his shoulderblades to the wall, trying to put distance in between him and Jeno. “You know what, fine. Do whatever you want, _fuck_ whoever you want, I don’t care anymore. Go ahead and fall for Renjun, I won’t be nasty to him any longer, if that’s what you want. Just leave me alone, Jeno, I don’t want to deal with this any longer. I don’t want to like _you_ any longer.”

He makes to step around him, to escape back into the night and leave all of this behind once and for all, but before he can even move, Jeno grabs his shoulder with his left hand, cups his cheek in his right hand and kisses him. 

Chenle freezes, his every muscle locking up, but Jeno persists, his lips soft and insistent. Before he can even think about it, before he can even protest, before he can do _anything_ , Chenle’s body melts into it, kissing back. 

“I don’t want you to give up on me,” Jeno whispers, drawing back for half a second before kissing him again, his other hand coming up to cup Chenle’s face. “I don’t want you to stop liking me, please don’t give up on me, Chenle.” His lips are warm as he kisses him again, and Chenle can’t help shutting his eyes, can’t help kissing back as long as he can before realising what he’s doing and pushing Jeno away with a hand to his chest, his heart jumping in anger and pain.

 _What was he doing?_

“You can’t just say that and think everything is going to be okay,” he says, clenching his jaw and staring up at Jeno. “You- you -” He growls in frustration when nothing clear comes out of his mouth. “You can’t just _kiss_ me and make everything okay, Jeno, that’s not how this _works._ You can’t just kiss me and think I’m somehow going to fall into your arms as if you didn’t fucking destroy me every day.”

“I’m so sorry for hurting you,” Jeno breathes out, devastation in every inch of his voice. His hands haven’t left Chenle’s face and his thumbs are stroking slow circles, leaving burning embers in their wake. Chenle feels as if he’s on fire. He doesn’t want to be. “I got so caught up in protecting this crew, protecting Jaemin, that I didn’t see I was hurting you. I’m so sorry. Will you ever believe if I said I returned all your affections, and more?” 

Chenle gapes up at him. “No I wouldn’t,” he says, disbelieving. “You- you never gave me a _chance_ , you always shot me down, you wouldn’t even-”

“You told me you wouldn’t kiss me unless I wanted it,” Jeno snaps back in a rush. “I did, you know. From the very first time you tried it. I really- I was _infatuated_ with you. I just-” he lets out a helpless laugh. “The crew always came first.”

“You can’t be serious,” Chenle states in shock. “What- five _years_ , Jeno. It’s been five fucking years!”

“I know,” Jeno yells and it falls like a bullet in the silence. Chenle stares at him and Jeno stares back, his mouth open, his hands falling away from Chenle’s face as he takes a step back, hand raking through his hair in frustration. “I just- god - how can I convince you, Chenle? I don’t know what else to say, I didn’t - I _don’t_ want to lose you and I know I came so close and I don’t ever want to come that close again.”

It hits Chenle like a wall of water, like a wave that had cascaded overboard, slapping him in the face and drenching him through and through. Waking him up. 

Jeno likes him back. He wants _him_. 

Chenle doesn’t know what to say. “You want me?” He asks helplessly, instead of blurting out all of his confusion. “All of a sudden, you just… ” He stares up at him. “You just decided?”

“It wasn’t a snap decision,” Jeno tells him quietly. “I didn’t just suddenly decide to start wanting you after you yelled at me. It’s been a long time coming, it’s just - I just finally found the courage.”

“After all these years,” Chenle states.

Somewhere behind them, raucous laughter follows the sound of breaking glass, and Chenle flinches, hand jumping to the pistol in his hip. Jeno responds likewise, snapping to attention. When no further altercation follows, they both relax, staring at each other in quiet disbelief. A smile crawls over Jeno’s face and Chenle can’t help but return it. 

“Well,” Jeno shrugs. “I never claimed to be the smart one. That was always you.” He swallows, stepping back closer to Chenle tentatively, into his space. “What do I do? How do I fix this?”

“I’m not sure,” Chenle murmurs helplessly, before stepping closer to him, and sliding his hand around the back of Jeno’s neck and pulling him down into Chenle’s space. He really doesn’t know, any longer. But what he _does_ know is that Jeno is in front of him, _wanting_ him after so long and he doesn’t want to wait. “But for now, you can just kiss me again.”

Jeno grins helplessly down at him. “What made you decide that?”

Chenle shrugs. “Five years of wanting this, I’d rather not wait any longer.”

Jeno’s smile curls bigger and sweeter, something soft and fond coming into his eyes. He leans in to kiss Chenle again, kissing him sweetly, cupping his face again between warm, callused hands. “I’ll make you believe me,” Jeno promises against his lips. It sends a thrill down Chenle’s back to feel Jeno’s mouth moving against his own. “I promise, Chenle. I promise.”

Chenle shuts his eyes and leans into Jeno’s touch, letting himself bask in the warmest fire he’s ever found dancing at his fingertips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well... who saw that one coming 👀

**Author's Note:**

> please drop some comments for me and my little monster baby, she loves them
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/_donghyuck_)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/hyxcheis)  
> [the siren’s song playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4sAhlARrY5HoQdmwXMCi4z?si=hliW_f78SE24_HOSV1izIQ)


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